Two Cats
by akitcougar
Summary: Loki is a master thief with a past he'd rather forget. Marek is a fighter who knows nothing about his own people. Fate throws them together as war brews in Tamriel.
1. The Embassy I

**The Embassy I**

_There are many types of thieves. There are those who steal gold and those who steal children. There are those who steal trinkets and those who steal fortunes. And then there are those who steal lives…_

- From the diary of Loki Dar'Renrij

* * *

"The Thalmor have something to do with dragons returning, I just know it!" the Nord standing across from me shouted, slamming her hands on the table between us.

I winced, and my ears fell flat against my head at how loud she got. "No need to yell, Delphine," I murmured. My tail twitched. "We hate the Thalmor just as much as you, if not more." I knew I hated them more.

"Aye, they tried to wipe Talos from Skryim," my companion, a red-haired Nord by the name of Frey, said. His newly forged greatsword was strapped to his back.

I grunted in agreement, although Talos wasn't all that important to me. Rajhin, Baan Dar, and Alkosh were my gods. No, the Thalmor had taken something far more personal to me.

Delphine grimaced. "We need to find out what they know. I have a friend who can get you into the Embassy. The First Emissary is holding a party next month."

"So what's our story?" I asked.

"Frey will be a nobleman. After he gets a distraction going, he'll sneak into the Embassy and steal the Thalmors' information," Delphine said matter of factly.

Frey and I looked at each other. He raised his eyebrow, and we both cracked up with laughter.

Delphine looked at us, puzzled. "What's so funny?"

"Frey, a thief? That's like trying to teach Merrunz to be careful," I choked out between laughs.

"Aye, or Arngeir to be less prudish!" Frey laughed. I snorted.

"The Thalmor won't exactly like having a Khajiit at the Embassy party," Delphine said, completely serious.

I stood up straight, wiping the grin off my face. In my full Elsweyr accent, I said, "This one is the Commander of the Dar'Jo Rebellion, Dunmer. This one is the son of Lok'nir Ri'Dar, Lord of the Mane's Chosen, and Anarkis Jo'Khaj, Lady of the Tenmar Forest. This one is the Champion of Sheggorath and Merrunz. This one is _Dovahsos_ and _Ziitafiir_." I leaned in close, dropping the Elsweyr accent in exchange for a deadly low voice. "I am far more powerful than you will ever know, Nord. Never forget that."

Delphine paled. I grinned, reverting to my usual self.

"Now, when is this party? I need to ask Ri'saad for some clothes."

"I... I will provide party clothes."

I shook my head, my grin still on my face. "Sorry, Delphine, but you don't know what a real Khajiit _rabi_ looks like."

* * *

"You do know how scary you got there, Loki?"

"Mhm. That was the point, Frey," I said, elbowing my Nordic friend. "Now, I'm going to be talking to Ri'saad in Ta'agra. Go talk with the Companions if you're bored."

We walked up to the gate of Whiterun. Ri'saad's caravan was parked outside the city.

"Greetings, Ri'saad!" I called in Ta'agra. "How are you?"

"This one is well, Dar'Renrij. Business has been good. What can this one do for you?"

I grinned. "This one needs a lord's _rabi_ with a very specific sigil."

"A true _rabi_ is very hard to find in Skyrim. What use have you for it?"

"With luck, Rajhin will smile upon this one's efforts. Without luck, may Baan Dar grant this one the cleverness to escape."

Ri'saad nodded. "And what sigil?"

I stood up straighter, making my slight stature less noticeable. "A black arrow pointed down on a white magic burst."

The older Khajiit stared at me. "The Dar'Jo Rebellion."

I nodded but did not elaborate.

Ri'saad sat in silence for a moment. "Very well, Dar'Renrij. Or, perhaps, this one should call you by another name?"

I cocked my brow. "This one needs this _rabi_ in a week, Ri'saad. The why is not important. This one will pay double whatever price you want."

"Agreed, Dar'Renrij." Ri'saad was a businessman first, a collector of secrets second.

"If this is successful, I will tell you all about it. I promise, Ri'saad," I added in Tamriellic.

The elderly Khajiit smiled. "May your roads lead you to warm sands," he said, the traditional Khajiit farewell.

"And may the winds guide you home," I said in reply, the farewell of the Dar'Jo Rebellion.

* * *

A carriage bumped its way along the road to the Thalmor Embassy. My _rabi_ was hidden under a fur cloak. A Khajiit wearing fur. Frey laughed about it for half the trip.

Frey sat across from me, brooding more and more as we approached the Embassy. He wore only his steel armor and his greatsword. My equipment was already hidden in the Embassy, waiting for me to take it and do my job.

The carriage rode up to the entrance.

The Thalmor soldier at the entrance examined my invitation, looking for anything wrong. He clearly did not expect a Khajiit, much less a Khajiit lord. He grunted and let me in.

Frey, my 'bodyguard' for this trip, was not allowed in. I looked back at him.

"I will be fine, my lord. You'll be safe enough." The code words for "I'll meet you 'round the back."

I nodded.

Inside the Embassy, I removed my cloak, shaking the snow out of it before handing it to one of the Thalmors' servants.

"I don't recall inviting you," a cold voice said. "I do not remember any Khajiit with that sigil."

"Lady Elenwen, this one presumes," I said, bowing slightly in false deference to the First Emissary. My full Elsweyr accent was at work, recalling an image of warm sands and harsh winds.

"You presume correctly, Khajiit." The Altmer woman was tall and gold. She also smelled sickeningly familiar. The scent reminded me of blood and rope.

"Forgive this one, for this one forgot to introduce himself," I said, maintaining a cool, respectful facade while bristling on the inside. I knew this Elenwen. "This one is Lok'nir Sol'Dar Raihan, Lord of the Mane's Chosen, son of Lok'nir Ri'Dar Raihan, Lord of the Mane's Chosen, and Anarkis Jo'Khaj Baramnin, Lady of the Tenmar Forest." I chose to use my true name rather than the one I took for myself, because I hadn't used the name at all in Skyrim.

"Ah, yes, the young son of Lord Raihan. Whatever happened to that old cat?" She clearly did not care and was only going through the formalities.

I smiled. My smile held none of my usual mirth. I gave the Altmer a lie. "This one is surprised you don't remember. He and this one's mother unfortunately perished years ago in an accident." As another guest walked in, I walked away and got a glass of wine from Malborn at the bar. I would have preferred mead.

I noticed a Redguard just sitting on a bench. I grabbed a second glass of wine and handed it to him. "Greetings."

"Hah, I like you already, cat!" the Redguard grinned, taking the glass merrily. "What can Razelan do for you?" He downed the glass in one gulp. I handed him my own glass.

"This one is Loki," I said, using my preferred name while keeping the Elsweyr accent. "How about making a distraction for this one?"

"Ah, you don't particularly care for these golden bastards either, eh? Buy me another drink and I'll happily say yes."

I grabbed him a full bottle of wine from Malborn the Bosmer and poured Razelan a glass before handing him the bottle. He drank straight from the bottle.

"Ah, that hits the spot. Many thanks, friend. You've earned yourself a distraction." The Redguard stood up and started addressing the crowd. I slipped away and followed Malborn into a back room.

"All of your things are in this trunk," he said. "I've got to get back to the party." The Bosmer departed, locking the door behind him.

I slipped out of my lordly _rabi_ and into the armor I'd had sent ahead. Siligonder chitin and cloth fashioned into a harden yet flexible curiass. Along the bottom was a red cloth emblazoned with a white magic burst and a black arrow. The armor of the Dar'Jo Rebellion.

Rajhin guide me, Alkosh protect me, Baan Dar save me.

The _rabi_ went into my sack. I didn't often wear nice clothes, preferring simple miner's garb. This set, however, was special, a reminder of what I'd left behind in Elsweyr.

I buckled the last strap on my armor and slung my steel arrows across my back. I tied my swordbelt to my waist, made sure my dagger and sword were secure, and grabbed my bow.

My bow wasn't much special from the look of it. A wooden longbow with silver inlaid in various designs that came from my Dagi mother. The silver was long tarnished and the wood worn. The bow itself, however, was made from my mother's own magic. No matter how much I used it, it still works just as if it's a perfectly worn bow with the exact amount of pull I needed.

The frost and paralysis spell enchanted onto it also helped.

I grinned in excitement and pulled my hood up. Time to make my parents proud.


	2. The Embassy II

**The Embassy II**

I'd made it through the Embassy itself, killing the Thalmor soldiers and one wizard with well-placed arrows.

Outside was total chaos, with Frey Shouting everywhere and slicing off heads with that massive greatsword of his. I slunk through, picking off Thalmor he missed.

Once there were no more Thalmor alive, I said, "This _was_ supposed to be a stealth mission, you know."

"Aye, I know."

"Oh, okay. Just checking."

I picked the lock on the door to the Embassy's living quarters. "Guard the door. I'll break in and out in nothing flat. Do _not_ Shout anymore," I murmured to Frey. He nodded and took up position at the door, although he was clearly upset with the "no Shouting" order.

I slunk in, arrow notched on my bow. My ears pricked up at the sound of two mer talking in low voices. I avoided them, walking up the stairs to poke around the Thalmor's rooms.

The first one I came across was clearly Elenwen's. There's no other reason for a Stone of Barenziah to be there. I swiped the stone, tossing it into my knapsack.

After looking around some more, I found nothing on dragons. I slipped downstairs, back to the first floor. The two men were still talking, and a steel arrow sprouted from one.

In confusion, the other rushed out of the room, giving me a perfect angle to place my arrow. It soared straight into his jugular.

Tiptoeing quietly, I moved into the basement.

* * *

"… That will be all for now. I must say I continue to be disappointed in your lack of cooperation. I hope next time you will do better," an elfin voice, high and cold, said.

"No, please- ARGH," the prisoner, a Breton by the smell, screamed as lightning shocked him into unconsciousness.

I notched an arrow on my bow.

"Khenarthi guide my arrow," I murmured in prayer as I let the arrow loose at the Thalmor interrogator. I quickly notched another and fired at the guard.

The Thalmor guard was dead in an instant. The interrogator, not so much.

The Thalmor twisted the arrow out of his right shoulder. I swore at Khenarthi and shot another arrow, which was consumed by a fireball from the Thalmor. Clearly, the Goddess of Winds was not smiling upon me.

"Show yourself!" he shouted in my general direction. I remembered this Thalmor's voice from Elsweyr.

I snorted, and, in my full Elsweyr accent once again, called back, "The Dar'Jo Rebellion sends its greetings, Rundilil." I rolled away from where I was as a thunderbolt shot towards it.

It was better for the Thalmor to blame the remnants of the Dar'Jo rather than the Dragonborn and the _Dovahsos_. Plus, this made it more personal.

I could no longer get a good shot from the balcony, as the Altmer aimed there. I put my bow away and unsheathed my sword. My blue sword, _Tafiirzinyah_, glowed brightly, ready for battle.

"Alkosh protect me," I murmured as I ran into the basement prison, praying that the magicka resistance I'd enchanted onto my chitin armor would hold against this elf.

I blocked a fireball with _Tafiirzinyah_ and slashed at the elf.

I cut off one of his arms at the elbow. The elf snarled, and I merely grinned. He shot another bolt of lighting at me, which my sword and armor absorbed.

"Who are you, cat?" the Altmer growled. He made a wall of fire between the two of us.

"Lok'nir Sol'Dar, Commander of the Dar'Jo Rebellion," I said as I walked straight through the fire and jammed my sword through the elf's gut. Surprised, he looked down at his gut. I twisted my sword and sliced upward, cutting him in two.

The battle over, I drank a potion to regain my health and sheathed my sword. I grabbed Rundilil's notes off the table, not caring what they were, and shoved them in my bag. I kicked open the door to the cell with the Breton in it. "Greetings, brother thief," I called to him, grabbing my lockpicks and opening the shackles.

"How did you..."

I smiled warmly as I handed him a strong health potion. For a moment, my voice took on the cadence of Brynjolf's. "You've clearly never done an honest day's work in your life, if you know who lives in the Ratway."

The Breton chuckled slightly, although he seemed a little unnerved after hearing a near-perfect imitation of the Guild's second coming from a Khajiit. "Can you get me out of here?"

"I can steal anything, brother thief. How would we get out of here?" I used my normal accent that came from years of living in Cyrodiil and Skyrim among the Imperials and Nords, rather than Brynjolf's or my Elsweyr accent.

He rubbed his wrists and pointed to a trapdoor. "I saw them throw some bodies down there a few times. I'm Etienne."

"Loki," I murmured. I took a look at the lock. "Baan Dar help us, this is a strong lock." I set to work picking it.

"Don't bother trying, Khajiit," Elenwen's voice appeared. "Or your friend here will die."

I whirled around. Two Thalmor guards restrained a red-haired Nord as Elenwen leaned on him. Frey was clearly pissing himself at the proximity to a Thalmor wizard while he was unarmed. A third Thalmor guard held his sword. Two Thalmor battlemages stood behind them, magicka at the ready.

My tail twitched. I reached for my sword, but Elenwen grabbed Frey's throat. "Don't try it, cat. Mithnar, Cyrellion, disarm him."

The two Thalmor battlemages kept up strong wards to protect themselves as they removed my bow, arrows, dagger, and sword. I didn't move, not wanting Skyrim to lose her Dragonborn.

"Strip him of his armor as well."

The mages used telekinesis to undo all the straps on my Siligonder curiass. Soon I stood in front of Thalmor with no more protection than a loincloth.

I looked up at Frey, my arms crossed over my furry, scar-ridden chest. He winked.

"FEIM ZII!" he shouted, turning into a phantom.

I cast two fireballs at the two Thalmor nearest me, knocking them backwards. I called up my strongest ward to hold back Elenwen's ice spikes. I grabbed my knapsack under the cover of my ward.

Frey reappeared behind me. "Now what?"

"Etienne, can you finish unlocking the trap door?"

"Already done, brother thief," the Breton called.

"Frey, get him and yourself out of here. Skyrim _cannot_ lose you. I'll cover for you," I ordered him. I tossed him my bag.

"Get yourself out of here too, Loki."

I grinned. "Aye, may Baan Dar save us both. Alkosh protect you," I called to him.

"And Talos guide you," Frey called over his shoulder as he and Etienne disappeared down the trap door. I kicked it shut and dropped my ward, preparing to summon a bow from the planes of Oblivion.

An ice spike hit me in my right shoulder, knocking me backwards. Almost immediately, the Thalmor surrounded me.

Elenwen stood over me, tall and imposing. "Where did they go?"

I grinned, knowing it would annoy her. "Only Sheggorath knows," I said in my full Elsweyr accent, invoking the Skooma Cat.

She sneered. "Lock him up, but not down here. If I remember correctly, Dar'Jo have a habit of escaping secure prisons." She nodded to the soldiers, who picked me up by my shoulder and made me kneel. One of the soldiers gave me a punch straight to my unprotected gut.

"Long live Lok'nir Ri'Dar and Anarkis Jo'Khaj, whose deaths promoted you to Skyrim, you _renriji_-Altmer bitch," I snarled at her through the pain, insulting her in both Ta'agra and Tamrielic.

She raised a cold eyebrow. "I see nothing less that my personal chambers will hold him. Gag him and give him magicka poison. Now, I must return to my party."

* * *

Five hours. That's how long I waited in Elenwen's room.

By the time Elenwen walked into the room, Jone and Jode had risen in the sky. My tail twitched in nervousness, and I ground my teeth against the gag in my mouth. She locked the door behind her.

"Lok'nir Sol'Dar. Lok'nir Soul-Thief. What an interesting name, Khajiit," she said as she removed the gag from my mouth.

"Can't say the same for yours," I growled.

She smiled coldly, causing my fur to prickle. "Ah, yes, now I remember. I'm the one who sentenced your parents to die when you were a boy."

I opened my mouth to speak, but she shushed me. She crouched down next to me and ran her hand through my mane and along the single braid I wore. She held it in her hand and examined the gold ring that held it together.

"Most Khajiit cut off their braids in deference to the Mane."

"I am not most Khajiit; I am Dar'Jo," I growled at her completely dropping my Elsweyr accent in order to threaten her.

"So I've noticed." Her hand travelled farther downward, towards my neck and chest. I bared my teeth at her. She only smiled.

We sat there for a while, with her toying with my fur, exploring my scars. My ice-blue eyes never left her golden ones, and I knew she could see the fury behind mine.

She stood. "Do not anger me, Khajiit. Cooperate, and your life will be easy. Fight, and you will suffer longer than your parents did."

I thought carefully for a moment. "_Hin mindok ni wo zu'u_," I murmured in Draconic, speaking more out of surprise than anything else. I was a Dar'Jo Commander and _Dovahsos_, and yet she told me to cooperate. I chuckled.

"What was that, cat?"

I gave her a casual, confident grin I was sure would irk her. "Absolutely nothing," I replied, hoping she didn't recognize the language I'd used.

She didn't. She gave me a baleful glare and walked out of the room.

* * *

I woke up with a lightning bolt straight to my shoulder.

Panicking, I Shouted, "YOL!" spewing a fireball at my attacker, forcing myself into a seated position. The roar of the fire hid most of the sound of my Shout.

The High Elf who stood over me blocked my fire breath with a ward. "Impressive trick, Khajiit, learning to fire Incinerate with your mouth. However, I hope you remember what I told you last night."

Elenwen the _renriji_-Altmer bitch. I growled at her. Inwardly, I was happy that she hadn't notice the dragon Shout.

"Cooperate, Khajiit, and no harm will come to you."

I had to laugh at that. "What do you call waking me up with a thunderbolt? A friendly warning?"

She held up her hand, brimming with magicka. A silent gesture to shut up.

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "Please, as if anything will shut me up."

She ignored my comment. "Get up and follow me."

I glanced behind me at my hands, which were still bound together. I sighed. I pulled my legs close to me and swung my back forward, rolling my weight off the floor and onto my feet. I stood up.

Elenwen looked down on me with her cold eyes. I grinned to irk her. She turned and walked out of the room, and I followed, padding as silently as possible.

She led me into a room with Thalmor guards. "Get him dressed. Watch the magicka." She left and closed the door behind me.

I was escorted out of the room a few minutes later in a burlap shirt and dirt brown pants. The two guards next to me kept their hands full of magicka.

I grunted at the rough treatment they gave me, and then an evil idea came to me. I silently thanked Frey for always trying to stop me when I sang and failing.

"Dragonborn, Dragonborn, by his honor is sworn," I started singing under my breath. The mer on my right gave me a jab to my ribs. Definitely easier than dealing with Frey.

"Shut up, cat."

I shook my head. "To keep evil forever at bay."

Another magicka-filled jab to the ribs.

"And the fiercest foes rout when they hear triumph's shout," I continued, a little louder than I was.

Two magicka punches. One to the gut, one to the jaw.

"Dragonborn, for your blessing we pray."

"You aren't even a bloody Nord!" one of the Altmer guards swore.

I grinned. "Hearken now, sons of snow, to an age, long ago, and the tale, boldly told, of the one!"

The other guard threw his hands up in frustration.

"Who was kin to both wyrm, and the races of man, with a power to rival the sun! And the Voice, he did wield, on that glorious field, when great Tamriel shuddered with war!"

The guards just kept walking me along, trying to block their ears from my horrible singing.

"Mighty Thu'um, like a blade, cut through enemies all, as the Dragonborn issued his roar!" I was louder now, at bar room level.

"That will be enough of that," a high and cold voice told me. Elenwen towered over even her own guards.

"And the Scrolls have foretold, of black wings in the cold, that when brothers wage war come unfurled," I continued to sing under my breath.

She slapped me. My cheek started to bleed.

"Alduin, Bane of Kings, ancient shadow unbound, with a hunger to swallow the world."

Now, she was clearly irked. She made a fireball in her hand and went straight for my gut. I almost threw up by the force of her anger-fueled fire punch.

I built my voice up, growing louder. "But a day, shall arise, when the dark dragon's lies, will be silenced forever and then!"

Her magicka was arcing all over her body, wild with raw anger at the uncooperative Khajiit.

At the top of my voice, I finished the song. "Fair Skyrim will be free from foul Alduin's maw, Dragonborn be the savior of men!"

Elenwen delivered a painful lightning bolt to my chest. My eyes went black.

I woke up a few moments later. Elenwen stood over me. I could not hear or smell the guards.

"What do you think you are doing, Khajiit?"

I gave her a weak smile. The many attacks I'd suffered during the song began to hurt. "Dragonborn, Dragonborn, by his honor is sworn..." I coughed and couldn't continue.

Elenwen knelt down to where I lay. "You realize that this doesn't have to be this way."

I attempted to shake my head. "You're a Thalmor. I'm Dar'Jo. I live to fight you," I whispered.

"You sound like Stormcloak once did," she murmured.

My eyes snapped up. "Since when have you met him?" My eyes narrowed.

She arched her eyebrows and said no more on the topic. "As you will not be cooperative, this will be as painful for you as possible. You could have risen far in the Thalmor ranks-"

"Controlled by you? No thanks," I growled. "And you only consider Khajiit to be tools."

She stared at me, and I held it. Her gold eyes bored into my blue ones.

"So you will make this as painful as possible for yourself."

"_Geh_," I said, slipping into Draconic on accident. Three languages were hard to keep track of when I was dead exhausted.

"Very well." She put me back to sleep with a thunderbolt.


	3. The Embassy III

**The Embassy III**

Jone and Jode had gone through one cycle since I was incarcerated. My days settled into a routine. During the day, the Thalmor interrogators would take me down to the cells and attempt to get information out of me.

They tried lightning, frost, and fire, but all I would give the interrogators was a badly off-key version of _Song of the Dragonborn_. They all despised the song. I'd gained several new scars all over my body due to my insolence. Thankfully though, S'rendarr the Runt protected me from the worst of the pain.

Sheggorath only knew what the constant injuries did to my mind. I knew I was going mad, but some part of me remained sane enough to recognize and hide the madness.

Evenings were an entirely different matter. After my daily torture sessions, I was dressed in my prisoner's clothes, and then I ate dinner with Elenwen, a battle of wits every night. She would ask me similar questions as her interrogators, but they always went in a roundabout way.

These battles of wits became an interesting game about how little could I give away to get as much as I wanted to know. I always left feeling like I'd given away more than I wanted her to know.

Tonight was no different than any other.

"Enjoy your day of toying with Nordic politics, Lady Elenwen?" I said, stabbing my food with a fork. The Thalmor never let me have a knife.

"I always wonder how you come out of those sessions with your wits intact, Sol'Dar," the Altmer replied, using my surname.

I smiled a politician's smile, one I'd seen many times on my father's face. "Those? Your wizards must be weaker than you believe, Elenwen."

"Hmn, or you're stronger than I suspected. I'll tell them to use stronger spells."

"You always tell them that, and yet I always comes back still perfectly sane," I said in the Falkreath cadence I'd learned from Brynjolf. I constantly changed accents during the conversations, mostly to annoy her but also to practice.

"The Eight must be protecting you somehow." Her face was in deep concentration. She'd had her interrogators increase their spell strength seven times in the past lunar month, yet Skooma Cat hadn't fully blessed me with his curse.

"I believe you mean the Nine." Frey's northern Skyrim accent.

"Talos is a false god."

"Some would say the Daedra are false gods. Those who do are usually struck down by whatever one they offended." Sheggorath's odd lilt I could never place.

"Who is your red-haired Nord friend that escaped?" She was suddenly very intense, compared to the previous bit of conversation.

I stared her down and snorted. I would never give away anything about my friend. "Switching topics, Elenwen? As if this one could be caught off guard like that." A full Elsweyr accent.

Her reply was cut off by a dragon's roar. Elenwen stood up and went to the window. "My archers and wizards are already dealing with it."

"They won't kill it," I remarked, falling back to my own voice. "Only the Dragonborn can."

"The Dragonborn is a lie the Nords tell themselves to make themselves feel better."

I chuckled. "If you insist."

The dragon roared again. I could now make out the words he was Shouting. _Yol Toor Shul_, the Fire Breath Shout. One of Frey's favorites. He shouted again, and I revised my pronoun usage.

"That's a female _dovah_," I murmured. Far more vicious and deadly than her male cousins. Those Thalmor wouldn't have an easy time getting rid of her.

"What was that, Khajiit?" Elenwen demanded.

I smiled. "A far greater challenge than your mer suspect."

She strode over to me. "And you think you can defeat it."

I casually nodded. "Alkosh protects me."

She sneered. "If you think your Dragon Cat will protect you..."

"He will."

"Get up."

I stood, impressed that she would actually let me take on the dragon. She directed me to the roof.

"I would suggest staying behind, Elenwen."

She watched me from behind a powerful ward as I approached the dragon. The dragon hadn't noticed me yet.

"Rahjin guide me, Alkosh protect me, Baan Dar save me,'" I prayed under my breath. I breathed deeply and called out, "_Drem, yol, lok, briinah!_"

The _dovah_ whirled around. "_Kaazze mindok dovah_?" she asked me.

I snorted. Of course I knew Draconic if I was talking in it to her. Doesn't matter if I'm a Khajiit or not. "_Geh_, although Tamrielic is easier for me."

"_Wo kos kaaz_?"

"_Zu'u Ziitafiir_." My name was difficult to translate into Draconic, but Spirit-Thief was close, if not a truly Draconic name.

"_Zu'u Yolkoordun_." Fire-Summer-Grace.

"Why are you here?"

Yolkoordun struggled to find the Tamrielic words. "_Zu'u_ here to help _Dovahkiin_ find _Dovahsos_."

I nodded. "_Zu'u Dovahsos, briinah._" Frey clearly hadn't forgotten about me, if he sent a dragon to help me.

"_Zu'u_ daughter of Paarthurnax, not _hin briinahi_."

"Yolkoordun, will you kill the _fahliil_ and help me?"

"_Geh._" She soared off and resumed her rampage through the Thalmor soldiers. I grinned and turned to face Elenwen.

"You... you're the Dragonborn..." she whispered, my long ears barely catching it.

"Wrong, Elenwen. WULD NAH!" I Shouted. The force of my Shout moved me behind Elenwen. I summoned an Oblivion blade and swung at her. She parried with her own blade. "I'm _Dovahsos_, but not the Dragonborn. That honor belongs to my red-headed Nord friend."

The look of surprise on her face was priceless. I created a ward with my other hand just as she fired a thunderbolt at me.

"TIID KLO UL!" I Shouted, slowing time down for Elenwen. I shoved my Oblivion blade in her stomach just as time went back to normal.

She looked down, and I grinned. "Too slow, Elenwen." She slashed wildly, and I easily blocked it with a ward. I pulled my own blade out of her, and she fell to her knees.

"Coward. A stomach wound is a dishonorable way to kill an enemy."

I paused. "The name, Altmer, is Loki Dar'Renrij, Landless Thief, formerly Lok'nir Sol'Dar, Soul-Thief. I am the last of the Commanders of the Dar'Jo Army, the Senche-Raht son of the Cathay-Raht Lok'nir Ri'Dar, the most respected thief in Elsweyr, as well as Lord of the Mane's Chosen and High Commander of the Dar'Jo Rebellion, and the Dagi Anarkis Jo'Khaj, the Desert Mage and the ironically named Lady of the Tenmar Forest. I am _Dovahsos_ and _Ziitafiir_. I am the Champion of Shegorrath, Merrunz, and Azurah." I leaned in closed, my voice a low and threatening growl. "But, most importantly, I am not a coward. _Zu'u ni nivahriin._ I do not give my friends away. I do not let others do my work for me.

"You, however, you do. May you never see the Aetherius, and may S'rendarr grant you no mercy."

I turned and left her to die as I searched through the Embassy Barracks in search of my true sword, my dagger, my armor, and my bow.

I retrieved them and pulled my armor on, stripping off the burlap clothes in exchange for the familiar Siligonder Chitin armor. The white magic burst and the black arrow of the Dar'Jo greeted me as a old friend.

On went my arrows and my swordbelt, _Tafiirzinyah_'s familiar weight bumping against my left leg. My tail swung slowly in happiness as I made my way outside, firing arrows at the cowardly Thalmor who stayed inside while Yolkoordun was out there.

"YOLKOORDUN!" I shouted, calling for the _dovah_.

"Here, _Dovahsos_," she said as she landed in front of me.

"WULD!" I Shouted to get up on her back, and she took off, soaring towards the Throat of the World.

* * *

"Loki!" I heard Frey shout as Yolkoordun landed at the Throat of the World.

I slid off the female dragon. "Thank you, Yolkoordun. _Lok, Thu'um_."

"_Lok, Thu'um, Ziitafiir_." She flew off into the night.

Frey came up from behind me and grabbed me in a hug that felt like it came from a cave bear. "By Talos, I thought you'd never come back."

"Baan Dar saved me, with the help of the dragon."

He let me down gently. "Did they hurt you at all?"

"A little," I said, showing some of my more visible scars. "Nothing permanent, and only a few signs of madness. S'rendarr had mercy."

Frey snorted. "You were crazy enough anyways, Loki."

The two of us walked towards a Word Wall at the top of the mountain. "Gods, I missed you," we said simultaneously.

A dragon landed out of the sky, and I jumped back, startled.

"Relax, Loki. This is Paarthurnax," Frey said, calming me down. "He's taught me a lot in the past month."

"_Drem, yol, lok, Ziitafiir,_" the elderly dragon greeted.

"_Drem, yol, lok,_" I replied. "Yolkoordun is your daughter?"

The dragon nodded. "In a sense, _geh_. That matters not. _Dovahkiin,_ tell your friend what happened."

I turned to Frey.

"I got an Elder Scroll while you were gone, and I learned a new Shout from it. I fought Alduin, although he escaped before I could defeat him."

"A bloody Elder Scroll," I swore. I'd heard of the legends before, but Frey had actually seen one.

Frey reached into his pack and pulled out a huge and ornate scroll. The Elder Scroll.

"Here, Loki. You'll need to learn Dragonrend if we want to defeat Alduin."

I nodded and reached for the Scroll. I hesistated, though, and pulled my hand back. "I think I need some time to myself, first, Frey."

My Nord friend looked heartbroken, but he nodded. "I understand."

"You must hurry, young ones," Paarthurnax said. "Alduin is growing stronger, even after the _Dovahkiin's_ near-victory. You must plan on how to reach Sovngarde to defeat him."

We nodded together. Frey took me by the shoulder and led me down to High Hrothgar to rest.

I collapsed on a bed in my armor, truly resting for the first time in over a month.

I knew it couldn't last.


	4. Season Unending I

**Season Unending I**

_The Dar'Jo Rebellion, also known as the Desert Cat War outside of Elsweyr, started with two powerful Khajiits: Lord Lok'nir Ri'Dar of the Cathay House Raihan and Lady Anarkis Jo'Khaj of the Dagi House Baramnin. Ri'Dar Raihan was a Lord of the Mane's personal council. His wife, Jo'Khaj Baramnin, was the head of the Elsweyr Mages' Guild. Despite their rich life, the two of them maintained friendships with lower class Khajiits. The desert Khajiit of Elsweyr were oppressed under the Thalmor-controlled rule of the Mane. Ri'Dar Raihan, himself a desert Khajiit, decided to unite the Khajiit tribes and rebel against the Mane and, by extension, the Thalmor, who limited the lives of Khajiit. Dropping all connections to the powerful Raihan and Baramnin Houses, Ri'Dar and Jo'Khaj united the Khajiit under the name the Dar'Jo, or Thief-Wizards, and a red banner with a white starburst and inverted black arrow._

- From A Modern History of Elsweyr by Akir Dar'sihan

* * *

We sat at the table on the raised dais, above the circular table the guests of High Hrothgar would sit on. The Greybeards sat at one the end of the table, the Blades at the other, and Frey and I sat in the middle as the Dovahkiin and the Dovahsos.

Frey wore steel Nordic armor, strong and sturdy. It was ancient armor, handed down from father to son in his family for years, but always kept in the best condition possible.

His greatsword, on the other hand, was new iron, barely broken in. It blazed red with a fire enchantment, suitable for the Dragonborn.

I, on the other hand, wore brown leather armor, a modified version of the Thieves' Guild armor. Across my back was my silver and wood bow and a quiver full of steel arrows. On my belt were my knife scabbard and my blue steel sword, _Tafiirzinyah_.

Neither negotiating party had arrived yet, and so I was scratching on the table, drawing with my knife. Arngeir the Greybeard and Delphine the Blade both glared at me, but neither wanted to say anything in front of the other. Thus, I continued to draw the starburst and arrow of the Dar'Jo Rebellion.

By birth, my name was Lok'nir Sol'Dar Raihan, but I never used that name. In Skyrim, my adopted home, I was Loki Dar'Renrij, or even just Loki.

I hadn't thought much of the difference until the past month.

My Thalmor-inflicted wounds, from my imprisonment, were starting to heal into scars. I still walked with a limp, however, and thoughts of my imprisonment, the Thalmor, Elenwen, the Dar'Jo, my parents, all swirled around in my head without stop.

And yet, I was expected to help negotiate a temporary peace between the Imperial and Stormcloak armies so that Frey and I could catch a dragon in Whiterun.

Frey and I would then fly the dragon to some ruins that are unreachable except on dragonback. The ruins contain a portal to Sovngarde. Once in Sovngarde, we'd fight and hopefully defeat Alduin. Then Tamriel would be saved and everybody could get back to their petty squabbles.

But first, we have to get Stormcloaks and Imperials to agree on something.

It didn't help that both Frey and I supported the Stormcloaks.

I, after my month with the Thalmor, supported them less than I once did. Some things Elenwen would say to me made me suspicious of Ulfric.

A door flew open and cold wind blew inside High Hrothgar. The other door opened at the same time, dropping the temperature of the room by several degrees.

From one door walked in the Stormcloak party. Only two men walked in in Stormcloak blue and black, but the two men were renowned throughout Skyrim. Galmar Stonefist, the General of the Stormcloak Army, was a master battle tactician, a Nord with brains. He wore bear-skin armor. The man slightly behind him, however, was the primary power of the delegation.

Ulfric Stormcloak, the self-proclaimed High King of Skyrim and leader of the Stormcloak Rebellion, strode in behind Galmar, tall and strong. The way he carried himself and acted, he reminded me of my father. Ulfric was a lot like Lok'nir Ri'Dar. Both united the people of their countries to fight for freedom. He wore simple clothes, with a black fur cloak.

Jarl Balgruuf of Whiterun followed, trying to distance himself from the Stormcloak party as much as possible without seeming rude. He looked good enough, but he was overshadowed by Ulfric and Galmar.

From the other door walked in the Imperial delegation. Legate Rikke, General Tulius, and Jarl Elisif all came in, in their respective regalia. The Legate was also a great tactician. General Tulius looked just as impressive as Ulfric Stormcloak, although his impressiveness came from his golden armor. Jarl Elisif wore the finest robes she owned. Compared to the Stormcloak party, the Imperials looked classier.

And then, following the Imperial delegation, came in Elenwen.

I froze, dropping my knife onto the floor. My tail twitched wildly in fear.

Frey looked over to me, and then to the Thalmor at the door.

"GET THAT FUCKING CUNT OUT OF HERE!" he roared, fists slamming on the table, some fire escaping out of his mouth.

Elenwen appeared startled, as did everyone else in the room.

"She... she's a part of the Imperial delegation..." General Tulius stammered in surprise.

"I DON'T FUCKING CARE," Frey snarled. "SHE TORTURED MY FRIEND!"

I created a fireball between my hands, maintaining it. Using my magicka and focusing on the fire helped me calm down. "Enough, Frey," I said, rising from my seat.

Frey looked over to me, and then backed down, sitting slowly into his chair.

My gaze met Elenwen's, and she gave me a cruel smile that sent my stomach crawling up my spine. I held fast, though.

"Gentlemen, ladies, of both the Stormcloak and Imperial parties, _drem, yol, lok_. Welcome to High Hrothgar," I started to address the people gathered. "Please, take a seat."

Everyone reluctantly sat, unnerved by Frey's rage and my calm. Arngeir and Delphine remained silent, neither willing to interrupt the Dovahkiin or the Dovahsos.

"We are here to discuss a peace treaty, not past events that any of us have experienced," I added. The fireball between my hands blazed more, an outlet for the inner turmoil I was feeling.

Frey grunted. Ulfric stared at Elenwen with interest. The Thalmor elf never took her eyes off me.

_I am the son of Lok'nir and Anarkis,_ I thought to myself. _I am the son of the Dar'Jo._

I just had to make it through this night.

* * *

_Jo'Khaj started by uniting the Khajiit mages that lived in the Tenmar forest. Many sided with her out of respect for her abilities. A master illusionist and destruction mage, Jo'Khaj was known even among the Thalmor battlemages. Jo'Khaj's mages attacked Thalmor outposts and held off Thalmor soldiers. Ri'Dar, on the other hand, united the common Khajiit of the desert. While the forest Khajiit were known for their magical abilities, the desert Khajiit were known for their sneak skills. Ri'Dar's Khajiit thieves infiltrated the Mane's strongholds and started inciting riots. For a time, the combination of guerilla tactics worked. The Dar'Jo Rebellion, as it became known, was the first time Khajiit united under one banner by choice._

- From A Modern History of Elsweyr by Akir Dar'sihan

* * *

There was a break in the proceedings. We'd given the Imperials the Rift and the Stormcloaks Falkreath hold. Neither side was happy.

I escaped to my room, planning on spending the hour break sleeping.

I fell onto the bed the Greybeards had provided for me. I tossed around for five minutes before sitting up again. A gut instinct told me sleep wouldn't come.

Instead, I grabbed the book I kept on the dresser. It wasn't a thick book, especially for a history book, but it was the content that mattered.

Akir Dar'sihan's masterpiece, _A Modern History of Elsweyr_, detailed the last several decades of my home's history. It began with the theft of Jone and Jode (which my father and other Khajiit later learned was just a natural event called an eclipse) and their subsequent return, supposedly by the Thalmor. That allowed the Thalmor to take over and begin their influence of the Mane, the Khajiit's traditional leader. The book ended with the death of the Dar'Jo Rebellion and the iron grip of the Mane on my homeland.

It was the only record I had of my parents' existence, besides my own memories. The Thalmor destroyed everything about them.

I sighed, just holding the book in my hand.

"A heretical book you're holding there."

"It's one of the few copies your people haven't burned," I replied to the elf at my door. "How did you survive?"

Elenwen gazed down at me. "The Thalmor don't burn books."

"Your puppets do," I growled.

The last time I'd seen the elf who ordered my parents dead and spent a month tormenting me, I'd left her with a stomach wound no normal person would survive.

I should have known this mer wasn't normal.

"You're calmer about this than your lover is," the High Elf commented.

"He's not my lover!" I snarled, reaching for my blue sword. _Tafiirzinyah_ glowed a bright blue through its scabbard.

"But you clearly want it," she said, stepping closer to me. I put my book down and kept a hand on my sword hilt. After that, I froze. A month of torture, and I couldn't stick a sword in this _renriji_-Altmer.

She walked up and stroked my cheek. I bared my teeth but made no move.

"You could still rise far, above even your father's station," she murmured to me. "I can help you. Work with me. Let me help you rise."

I stood up and grabbed her wrist, wrenching her hand off my face. "After everything you've put me through, after everything you've done, you still think I will side with you?" I growled.

She smiled. Not a cruel smile, not an icy one. One with... warmth in it. "You just want someone to care for you, Loki. I could be that one."

I drew _Tafiirzinyah_ with my other hand. "This sword's name means 'seeking honor.' I will not follow the dishonorable path you want for me." I shoved her away with my other hand and guided her toward the door at sword point. "I am my father's son."

At the door, she gazed down at me. "No. Your father would have done the right thing."

My eyes narrowed. "Our sense of right differs. I'll put this politely, Elenwen. Fuck. Off."


	5. Season Unending II

**Season Unending II**

_The fall of the Dar'Jo began when their inner council was infiltrated by a Thalmor sympathizer. Zan'urabi was a master assassin and a close friend of Ri'Dar. It is still unknown why he betrayed his friend to the Thalmor, but betray the Dar'Jo he did. The Dar'Jo fell apart as Ri'Dar and Jo'Khaj were captured by Thalmor Ambassador Elenwen's forces. Their subsequent trial and execution only further scattered the Dar'Jo's once numerous supporters. No one knows what became of Ri'Dar and Jo'Khaj's family._

- From A Modern History of Elsweyr by Akir Dar'sihan

* * *

I walked into the conference room at the end of Esbern's spiel. Somehow, he managed to keep several people who wanted to kill each other in the same room peacefully.

I sat next to Frey, keeping my calm. _Tafiirzinyah_ pulsed softly with a blue glow as I placed it on the table in front of us.

The Imperial delegation, save Elenwen, glanced uneasily at my sword.

"Are we done here?" Arngeir said, breaking the awkward silence.

Ulfric started the talks again. "Don't hand me a mug of sheep's piss and call it mead. I'm still not satisfied. We've given up the Rift to the Imperials and only gotten a minor hold in return. I say that the Imperials should give us Hjaalmarch as well."

Tulius looked taken aback. "Falkreath for the Rift is more than fair, Jarl Ulfric."

I zoned out, watching reactions rather than listening to words. Ulfric and Galmar clearly wanted more out of the Imperials. Tulius and Rikke wanted nothing more than to be done with these negotiations. Balgruuf was uncharacteristically silent.

Elenwen stared at me and Frey. I looked away.

Ulfric and Rikke clearly wanted to tear our each other's throats, and Tulius and Galmar were only barely holding them back.

The squabbling over the minor holds grew to a climax, and I stood up, silencing the room.

"The Stormcloaks will gain Falkreath, Morthal, and payment for the massacre at Dawnstar. The Imperials will gain the Rift and a military outpost in the Pale. Are you all happy now?" I growled out the last line.

Frey stood up next to me, imposing and threatening where I was small. His iron greatsword blazed in its scabbard. _Tafiirzinyah_ pulsed to my heartbeat.

No one dared breathe a word.

"Then we're done here."

* * *

_As a result of her actions in Elsweyr taking down the Dar'Jo Rebellion, Ambassador Elenwen of the Aldmeri Dominion was promoted to Ambassador of Skyrim. In addition, several of her battlemages were promoted to high positions in Skyrim as well. The Mane established an iron rule with the help of the Thalmor. The Khajiit who were formerly fighters in the Rebellion were hunted down and killed en masse as a warning to any who would challenge the Mane's rule. Many common Khajiit have been starved as the Mane's forces redirect supply lines. The Mane retains a good friendship with Ambassador Elenwen and has been known to visit her in Skyrim. The Thalmor continue to have a strong presence in Elsweyr_.

- From A Modern History of Elsweyr by Akir Dar'sihan

* * *

Although most came in groups, they all left one by one. Jarl Balgruuf went first, eager to avoid being a part of any conflict. General Tulius and Legate Rikke left together, riding back to Solitude. Jarl Elisif left later, riding towards Solitude as well.

Galmar Stonefist left as well to take command of the Stormcloaks in charge of retaking the Rift once Alduin was defeated.

Only Ulfric and Elenwen were left, a more unlikely pair Frey could not imagine.

I, on the other hand, was suspicious. Ulfric normally couldn't stand being in the same room as a Thalmor, much less talking politics with one.

_Tafiirzinyah_ was in my hand. I hadn't even bothered putting it back in my scabbard.

"Jarl, Ambassador," I greeted the two coolly. My sword glowed a steady, calming blue.

"Stormtail," Ulfric said, friendly in his own gruff manner. He used my title within the Stormcloak Army, since I was the only member of any of the beast races in it. I'd tried convincing some of the caravan Khajiit, the ones who I knew had fought for the Dar'Jo before fleeing to Skyrim, but they'd had enough war for one lifetime.

"Loki," Elenwen said. I couldn't decipher her tone, which was unusual. I eyed her suspiciously.

She smiled. "No need to be suspicious, Loki."

"I have plenty of reasons, Ambassador. And I am Dar'renrij to you, not Loki."

"Why are you still here, cunt?" I heard Frey's voice growl from behind me. I half turned and saw him approach, his greatsword held in his right hand.

"If I am not welcome, then I shall leave," Elenwen said, giving a slight, mocking curtsey.

"Get out," Frey said, openly hostile.

The Thalmor elf turned and left, but not before giving me a wink.

My tail twitched nervously until the great doors of High Hrothgar closed.

"Mind if I ask what that was all about, Stormtail?" Ulfric asked me.

"Nothing. It was nothing," I said.

"Fucking cunt kidnapped him and tortured him in her embassy for a month," Frey said at the same time. We glanced at each other.

Ulfric nodded. "I see. Stormtail, mind if I talk with you privately?"

I grunted a yes and started walking towards my room. Ulfric followed.

Once I stopped, he grabbed my shoulder and started talking. "What exactly did Elenwen do to you?"

I blinked at the abrupt questioning. "She kept me locked up in her room for a month. I was subjugated to Thalmor torturers daily. I escaped with the help of a dragon. Why?"

He nodded. "I remember my time in the embassy. Elenwen's tried to sink her claws in you, Loki. Better hope she didn't succeed."

With all the suddenness of the conversation, Ulfric Stormcloak turned and left.

I stood still and stared at his retreating form. One thought ran through my mind continuously. It was a disturbing thought, as I'd thought Ulfric was a lot like my own father. But this one thought shook me to the core.

I could no longer trust Ulfric.

Could I no longer trust the man my father was?

Could I no longer trust myself?


	6. Dragon Slayer

**Dragon Slayer**

_It changed me, and it probably wasn't for the better. Shit happened, and I needed help recovering. No one else I knew could help me. I regret the effects of my actions after Sovngarde, but I do not regret my actions._

- From the diary of Loki Dar'Renrij, _Dovahsos_

* * *

I stared at the portal that led to Sovngarde. The dancing light of the portal beckoned.

Frey stood by me, equally mesmerized. The blood of dragons covered him, from when we fought through Skuldafn.

I bent down and picked up the dragon priest's mask. Dragon glyphs were enscribed on it, giving the mask the name Nahkriin. Vengeance. I placed it in my bag next to two others I'd collected, Krosis and Volsung. Sorrow and Horrific Air.

"Let's get going, Loki," Frey said. "Sovngarde awaits."

* * *

"_LOK VAH KOOR_!" I shouted, clearing some of the blue mist that surrounded us. Everything in Sovngarde was covered in this mist. Somewhere inside it, Alduin the World Eater lurked.

I felt unnerved by all of it. "Let's get to Shor's Hall soon, Frey."

My Nordic friend grunted and helped me clear the mist.

We reached the end of the mist and the gate to Shor's Hall.

At the gate stood a warrior. I looked to Frey, hoping he would know who the Nord warrior was.

Frey stood awestruck. "Tsun. Shield-Thane of Shor himself."

"Aye, boy. What right have you to enter the Hall of Valor?"

"I am Frey Svenson. By right of birth and blood, I am Dovahkiin. By right of conquest, I am General Dragonblade of the Stormcloak Army. By right of glory, I lead the Companions of Jorrvaskr," Frey stepped in front of me, confident in his right to enter. "I am a true Son of Skyrim."

Tsun grinned. "I welcome the change to challenge the blade of Ysgramor's heir, Frey son of Sven. Who is your companion there?"

I smirked. "This one is of no particular importance. I am known as Ziitafiir to dragons, Dovahsos to Skyrim, and Loki Dar'Renrij to myself, although I have earned many other names. By right of plunder, I am a thief of the Guild. By right of blood and merit, I am a commander of the Dar'Jo Rebellion. By right of conquest, I am General Stormtail of the Stormcloak Army."

Tsun looked down at me. "So you are not important enough to enter the Hall of Valor." He turned to Frey. "Prepare yourself, Dovahkiin."

The two warriors drew their weapons. Fire danced along Frey's greatsword, while Tsun's battle axe was simple, although clearly used and deadly.

The two Nords began a deadly dance. I stood off to the side and watch them fight, axe and sword clanging together.

A man, dressed in the robes of a king, walked up next to me. "I wish I was skilled enough to gain entrance to Shor's Hall," he said, looking longingly at Tsun and Frey's fight.

I gave him a once over. I remembered his face from when he was killed. "High King Torygg, huh?"

"Yes. You know, Sovngarde isn't all that bad, once you get used to the mist."

"I doubt I will ever know," I said, with only a slight tinge of bitterness. "Only Nords are allowed in Sovngarde."

"Then how are you here, Khajiit?"

"Luck, dragons, and a shared destiny. The red-haired Nord over there is Frey Svenson, the Dragonborn," I said, gesturing to my friend.

The former High King nodded. "You know, I had a little bit of the Sight when I was alive. I knew I would die when Ulfric came to Solitude. The only regret I have is that I left my fair Elisif alone. I faced him fearlessly – my fate inescapable, yet my honor is unstained. Ulfric cannot say the same."

I nodded. "I was there when he killed you. I hid in the shadows. I was just a thief, looking for gold. I didn't realize..."

"Neither did anyone else."

I heard Frey's roar, and I knew the battle would be over. I turned back towards it and saw the ground scorched from Frey's sword and Shout. He held his greatsword at Tsun's neck.

Tsun was grinning. "Well met, Dragonborn. You may enter the Hall of Valor."

Frey grinned, shouldering his greatsword. He turned to me briefly. "See you in a bit, Loki!"

Torygg looked longingly as Frey crossed the bridge.

Tsun stood up and walked over to us. "I apologize for my behavior earlier, Loki son of Lok'nir. I was told to only let the Dovahkiin in."

"Told by who?"

A shriek pierced the sky, and my ears pricked up. I'd heard this shriek once before, a year ago at Helgen. I turned towards it, pulling my bow out and notching an arrow.

"Ysgramor knew that Alduin would attack while the Dovahkiin was inside. He knew that there would be two of you. He asked that whoever didn't call himself Dovahkiin stayed out here to protect the hall until the Dovahkiin could kill the World-Eater."

I growled. "So I'm just bait, huh?"

Tsun shrugged. "You're only a cat."

I snarled at that. "This one is not just a cat. I could list my titles again, and add all of them this time, but the World-Eater is here."

I turned away from the Nords and Shouted at the sky. "_AL DU IN_!"

I heard a roar and a Shout in response. "_STRUN BAH DOV_!"

The skies turned a blood red, and I saw fire rain down onto the fields of Sovngarde. The fire burned the mist away, leaving a clear space for a battle.

Alduin flapped his wings and landed on the ground. Before he could do anything, I loosed my arrow at him, aiming for his eye.

He swatted my arrow away with ease. "Pitiful, _Ziitafiir_," the World-Eater growled. "_YOL TOOR SHUL_!"

I jumped out of the way of his fire breath and scrabbled behind a rock. The fire hit it, but I was protected, for the most part. As soon as Alduin's Shout ended, I jumped out and Shouted back, "_JOOR ZAH FRUL_!"

Alduin howled as my Shout hit him. I fired several arrows rapidly, aiming everywhere I could see.

He flapped off the ground, bloodied and clearly angry. "Insolent _Kaaz_! You may use the weapons of my ancient foes, but you are not their equal!" he roared. "_FUS RO DAH_!"

"_FEIM ZII_!" I Shouted back, protecting myself from the force of his shout. As I was protected, I put my bow away and drew my sword. "_JOOR ZAH FRUL_!"

Alduin was hit again and forced to land. I ran towards him and jumped onto his head, driving my sword in between his eyes. The great dragon shrieked in pain and tried to shake me off. I held onto my sword, still stuck in the dragon's head.

I heard a familiar Shout from behind me, and I pulled my sword out as Frey Shouted Dragonrend. I stabbed Alduin in the eye, ending the great World-Eater's life.

"_Ziitafiir_," Alduin growled with his dying breath. "_Dovahkriid_."

His soul rushed out of his body to meet me. It was painful, like I was burning from my soul out. His body melted from under me, and I fell to the ground, although the World-Eater's soul was more painful than the fall. Everything was fading.

"_I will kill you, Dovahkriid_," I heard Alduin's voice say as I felt arms around me.

"We have to get him back to Paarthurnax!" I vaguely heard Frey shout at someone. It sounded far away.

"Aye. _Nahl Daal Vus_!"

I fell into the darkness, pained and crying.

* * *

_I am a dead man walking. The Loki who once was is dead._

- From the diary of Loki Dar'Renrij, _Dovahsos_

* * *

"I don't know what's wrong with him," I heard a voice murmur. My mind felt like it was swimming through rat soup. "It's like he left his soul in Sovngarde when you dragged him back."

I groaned as the pain hit me. My entire body ached, but my back felt like it burned.

"By Talos, he's alive!"

I felt a burst of Restoration magic course through me. My eyes cracked open.

"Fuck, that hurts."

Frey laughed. I tried to smile, but my face hurt too much.

"What happened?" I croaked out.

"Alduin's last gambit. If he was to die, he would kill the _joor_ who took him. His soul passed through you, attempting to take your soul with it," I heard an ancient, gravelly voice say.

'_What an amusing theory, Paarthurnax_,' I heard a voice say, although I knew no one here had that voice.

"Paarthurnax has stayed outside your window, so he could instruct the Greybeards how to heal you from Alduin's attack," Frey explained.

"_Aaz Drem Haas, Dovahkriid_," I heard Paarthurnax say. "Heal soon, for _Keizaal_ will sing of her hero."

"You killed the World-Eater, Loki," Frey murmured, although I could hear the bitterness in his voice, even in my half dead state.

'_Not quite_,' the voice in my head said.

"Just let me sleep this off," I murmured back, closing my eyes again and falling back into blissful oblivion.

* * *

I awoke a few days later in the dead of the night. I wasn't entirely healed, but it was enough for me to protect myself on the way to Riften. I couldn't stay at _Monahven_, not with Alduin's soul inside of me.

I searched High Hrothgar for my equipment, which I pulled on as quietly as possible. I scribbled a note down and left it, walking out the door.

I started to walk down _Monahven_, intent on never coming back.

Frey was supposed to kill Alduin, not me. If I left, he could pretend all he liked that he was the one to kill the World-Eater.

"Going somewhere, _Dovahkriid_?" I heard a now-familiar gravelly voice.

"Go away, Paarthurnax."

"You are the hero of _Keizaal_, little one. You should be proud."

"Let Frey take the title. I never want to remember Sovngarde." I shuddered at the memory of the pain I experienced.

'_Foolish Kaaz. I will always be with you, Dovahkriid,_' Alduin's voice whispered in my head. '_I will always remind you_.'

I stopped for a moment, my breath catching. Paarthurnax must have noticed, and he landed in front of me.

"You started to absorb Alduin's soul, didn't you?"

I stared up at the great dragon, Alduin's former lieutenant. "No, I did not," I lied. I wanted to get away from _Monahven_, and Paarthurnax finding out the truth would mean I would never leave.

Paarthurnax stared at me before he flew off back towards his peak.

I continued to descend the mountain, reaching Ivarstead in under an hour.

Something felt wrong as I set foot in the village. I drew my sword, _Tafiirzinyah_. It pulsed a soft blue, illuminating my path.

Several horses were in front of me, and I ducked behind the nearest building. I peered around the house and swore. Thalmor.

I turned towards the other side and whispered, "_Zul Mey Gut_," throwing my voice over to the other side of the village.

"Hey, ugly!" I heard myself call to the Thalmor. The elves moved over towards the noise.

I sighed in relief as they passed me, and I slipped out behind them, running out of the village.

Just as I reached the town's limits, I tripped over a tree root and fell, crying out in pain. The Thalmor heard, and several of them rushed over towards me. I scrabbled on my feet and tried to run, but one of the battle mages fired off a lightning spell, making me fall again.

I fell hard on my head, and blackness started to creep over my eyes once again.

"This the cat?" one of them asked, his voice far away.

"It is. I remember him from the Embassy."

"Shit," I growled as I gave into the darkness again.

* * *

I woke up in a soft bed. I felt that my wounds were bandaged and healing, even the ones from Sovngarde.

I pushed myself up, groaning.

"Easy there, Khajiit," I heard the voice of a male elf. "The Ambassador doesn't want you hurt again."

"Why would I care what that _renriji_-Altmer wants?" I growled, but my heart wasn't in it. Sovngarde took a lot out of me.

"She insisted we save your life, once she saw those burns of yours."

"You try tackling a named dragon on your own," I murmured. "Especially the one I ran into."

The elf laughed. "I'm Mithnar. We met before. I apologize for what happened the first time you were at the Embassy."

"Right, you," I growled. "Get out of here."

"Can't, I'm afraid. Lady Elenwen insisted that I stay here, as your primary healer at the moment."

I laid back down, intent on trying to sleep again. It was the only way I could ignore the elf.

I heard the door open, and I could smell Elenwen as she walked in.

"Is he still asleep?" she asked Mithnar.

"Actually, he's just ignoring me."

"Good. Get out."

The door closed, and I knew that Mithnar left.

Elenwen sat on the bed next to me. "So, your quest was clearly successful. Alduin isn't terrorizing the world."

"Eating it. He's the World-Eater," I murmured.

Elenwen chuckled, and she cupped my face with her hand, making me look at her. "Did you kill him, or did your Nord friend?"

I thought for a moment. What should I tell her?

"Frey killed him." I didn't elaborate. It was a lie that I could spin into truth if I needed, but it was simple enough that Elenwen wouldn't question it. "I got caught in the fire."

'_Amusing lie, Ziitafiir_,' I heard Alduin's voice. I mentally told him to shut up.

"Clearly. He is truly dead then?"

"_Thu'umii los nahlot_. His soul is no more." Another half-lie. He couldn't Shout anymore, but his soul was still in this world.

"Good," Elenwen said. "There's one obstacle out of the way."

We sat there for a while, Elenwen just stroking my face. It felt nice, peaceful. A part of my mind, the one that existed before Sovngarde, felt unnerved by it all, but the part of me that was tired out from my experiences just wanted to stay here and relax. The part that was Alduin stayed silent.

Her hand started traveling further down, exploring my furry, scar-ridden chest. I purred, and she chuckled.

As her hand traveled even further down, I grabbed her wrist, stopping her momentarily. "Is the door locked?"

With a flick of her hand, Elenwen said, "Now it is."

I smiled contently, and we continued on through the night, sometimes peaceful, sometimes bursting with energy.

Sometime before dawn, we fell asleep in each others arms.

* * *

_I didn't know that would happen. I didn't know. I didn't want to know._

_ - _From the diary of Loki Dar'Renrij, _Dovahkriid_

* * *

I left the Embassy for good as soon as I was healed. I stole a horse and rode for Riften, determined to leave everything about the Dovahsos behind.

It took several years of me just living my life as a simple thief for the world to forget that the Dragonborn's best friend was once a Khajiit named _Ziitafiir_.

The war ended, and Ulfric Stormcloak won with help from Frey Svenson. No one remembered the Khajiit general named Stormtail.

The Thalmor were driven out of Skyrim, and things settled into a new, relatively peaceful normal. No one in all of Skyrim remembered a Khajiit named Lok'nir Sol'Dar Raihan.

I was nearly killed by the man I called friend, Mercer. Karliah, the Dark Elf who was called a traitor, saved my life, and together with Brynjolf we took Mercer down. I should never have trusted a man named Frey.

I swore my soul to Nocturnal, yet another oath I intended to break on my death. I was already sworn to Sheggorath, Alkosh, and Merrunz, but my soul belonged to Baan Dar and Rajhin.

Alduin sometimes spoke to me, but he was silent for the most part. The only times I truly noticed him were when I was enraged and my thief cover fell, exposing me as the _Dovahsos_.

I very rarely talked with my own people, but I would sometimes see the caravans that passed through the Rift.

Seven years after Alduin died, I saw Ri'saad for the first time since before I went to the Embassy that first time.

"Hail, my friend," I said to him in Ta'agra, greeting him in our mother tongue.

"Hail, son of the Dar'Jo," he replied, smirking. "Will you sit with this one and tell this one your story?"

I nodded. "This one did promise you a story worth telling. And all the gold to prove it."

And so I told him of what happened, starting with the Embassy and ending with Sovngarde, leaving out the parts about Alduin's soul and what happened after I left _Monahven_.

"A good story, Loki."

"Granpa Ri'saad, can I go play with the village kids?" a young cub asked the elderly Khajiit. The cub had golden fur, golden eyes, and a wild grin. I thought I recognized the eyes.

"Go on, little one. You don't need my permission." The cub ran off, bounding after his new Nord friends.

"Cute cub. Whose is he?"

"No ones, I think. An elf gave him to us before she left Skyrim. Said she raised him, but she had to leave. Never mentioned his parents."

I grunted in curiosity, but I never gave it a second thought.

"So, what have you been up to after Sovngarde, Loki?"

I grinned. "The one true Khajiit pastime: thieving, of course. Speaking of which," I said as I pulled out a large crystal.

As he saw the white crystal, Ri'saad's eyes gleamed in greed. I handed it to him. "A gift. Keep it safe and never sell it, for it will mark you as a friend of the Thieves' Guild."

"Thank you, Loki. May your roads be filled with warm sands."

"And may the winds guide you home." I stood up and stretched, leaving the caravan and heading back down into the sewers.

"How's the day's haul, Vex?" I asked.

"Better than it ever was under Mercer, Guild Master," the blonde Imperial said.

Delvin Mallory grinned. "Our luck's finally back.

"Luck has nothing to do with it," I grinned.

Something nagged me in the back of my mind, but I ignored it. It was probably only Alduin's ghost.

"So, what's our plan for the next big thing?"

* * *

_I never knew I had a son._

- From the diary of Loki Dar'Renrij

* * *

**Author's Note: This is the end of the first arc, which is Loki's past. The next arc will be third person from Loki's perspective and a new perspective. I'll start posting either this weekend or next week, because I need to edit the sections I already have written (and start writing the next one). You'll actually meet Marek soon.  
**

**This entire story was (and still is) originally posted on Reddit (/r/talesfromtamriel). New chapters will be posted there first, then edited, then added here. I post them on here with the same section breaks as I do on Reddit (although for Dragon Slayer, I combined them).**

**The past few chapters were more of a prequel trilogy designed to give Loki's very confusing backstory, as well as a backdrop for the main part of Two Cats.  
**

**Feel free to PM me any questions you have (especially when it comes to translating the Dovah and Ta'agra).  
**


	7. Two Cats Meet in a Bar

**Two Cats Meet in a Bar**

_Tamriel was not ready for the day I met Marek Do'Renrij..._ - from the diary of Loki Dar'Renrij, Guildmaster

_Imagine that. I guess it all really happened. By the Nine, those were some crazy times. Was it really all true?_ - from the journal of Marek Do'Renrij, the Punchcat Paladin

* * *

A lone Khajiit walks into the New Gnisis Cornerclub. He's wearing simple miner's clothes, old and worn, and wields a bow on his back and a dagger at his side. A simple hood covers his ears and most of his face, save for a single braid that ends in a golden ring. He sits down at the bar and orders an ale and a stew. He pulls out a bottle of something, probably skooma, and spikes his drink before swallowing it all at once.

Another Khajiit walks into the bar. This one is wearing steel armor, clearly crafted and tailored for him. He has no visible weapons. He takes off his helm, revealing tall ears ringed with earrings and a long mane pulled back in the Nordic style. At this, the Dunmer bartender straightens up.

"Your usual, I'm guessing?" he asks the second Khajiit, who nods in response.

This Khajiit sits next to the first, barely noticing him. A full mug of mead and a roasted goat leg are placed before him. He only glances over when the first Khajiit orders another drink.

When he did see the other, he grinned. "Hah, it's not everyday I see another Khajiit in a bar in a city! Tell me, where are you from?" His accent was Nordic and far more direct than a true Elsweyr accent.

The first Khajiit glanced over. "Nowhere in particular. Deserts, cities, mountains. I've lived everywhere. How about yourself?" He had the distinctly Khajiit accent, although he didn't use the same speech patterns.

The second Khajiit laughed. "I grew up with a caravan, but I've lived in Windhelm for as long as it's mattered. Name's Marek Do'Renrij."

"Imagine that. I haven't heard the Do' prefix in years. Dar'Renrij here." Dar'Renrij declined to give his first name.

"What are you doing here in Windhelm? I thought I was the only Khajiit allowed in the walls, and that's only because of my punch."

Dar'Renrij chuckled. "No walls I know can keep this one out. I come and go where ever I please."

Marek laughed as well. "Amusing. Any good with that bow of yours?"

"You might say that. You're an unarmed fighter?"

"Mhm, you might say that. I'm a member of the Paladins."

Dar'Renrij raised his brow. "A pit fighter? Any fights coming up?"

"Aye. I'm fighting the Beast of Elsweyr in Riften in two days."

Dar'Renrij smiled. "Perhaps I'll see you there."

"Try and come if you can. The fight's in the Ratways, but if you're as good with that bow as you say, you should have no problem getting there."

Dar'Renrij grinned at this. "Perhaps."

* * *

Loki Dar'Renrij Raihan pulled his grey leather armor off. He'd earned this armor years before. He changed into simple miner clothes and pulled his weapons back on. This time, he pulled his famed blue sword on.

"Another good haul today. Rahjin smiles on our guild. Vex, what are the odds on today's pit fight?"

Vex tossed a knife while she talked. She was used to her boss changing in front of her. "2-1 for Beast, 9-1 for the new guy."

"Do'Renrij. I'll place a thousand on Do'Renrij."

Vex dropped her knife. "By the Nine, Loki, you aren't serious?"

Loki grinned at his lieutenant. "Of course I am. When am I not?"

"But you're the Guildmaster! You don't place bets! You've never placed a bet!"

"First time for everything, hmn? Perhaps Sheggorath is meddling with my mind, but I don't think so. Or perhaps that one nameless dragon."

Vex sighed. "All right then, one thousand for new guy. What makes you so sure he'll win?"

"Gut instinct."

"You're betting all of today's haul on a _gut instinct._"

"Of course." He grinned. "What did you expect?"

* * *

Marek Do'Renrij sat on a sack of moldy potatoes, adjusting his armor so that it fit perfectly.

"Are you ready to battle, Marek?" Gerich, the team's manager, asked.

Marek Do'Renrij nodded. He tossed his two daggers to Gerich. "Hold onto the Little Claws for me, Gerich."

Gerich raised an eyebrow. "Going in claws only? That's a first."

Marek flexed his left hand, showing off his claws. "The way I repaired my armor after last time means that I've got more of an advantage without the Little Claws than with."

"If you're sure Marek. Go on. Good luck, kid. You're going to need it."

* * *

"You know, I never liked Beast," Loki muttered to himself. The Beast was posturing in the pit, as usual. "He's not a proper Khajiit."

"Like you are?" Vex snorted.

Loki smirked. "I'm a master thief and talented with sword and bow. Of course I am. No honorable Khajiit uses a staff like that one does."

The challenger walked out of the prep room and into the pit.

The crowd murmured. The challenger, another Khajiit, had no weapons. Only armor.

"I hope your instinct was right, Loki."

"Ay, I do, too." He focused on Do'Renrij. "He looks like a Cathay..." he muttered. "But there's something..."

"What?"

"A Cathay. I'm a Suthay-Raht." Seeing Vex's blank face, he added, "You know how there are different dog breeds, right? Khajiit... breeds are determined by the _ja'Kha'Jay_, or Lunar Lattice. I haven't explained this to you before?"

"No, you haven't. So, what makes a Cathy different from a Suthy-whatever?"

"Cathay are bigger and brawnier. Suthay-Raht are more common outside of Elsweyr. I haven't seen a Cathay outside of my homeland in years."

"And this is important, why?"

"Beast is a Suthay-Raht. And he has no experience of fighting an unarmed opponent."

"He's going to die."

"Easily."

"I better go round up those bets. We'll need all of them to give you your payoff."

* * *

Marek adjusted his gauntlets. The Beast of Elsweyr swung his staff, gaining the admiration of the crowds.

Marek charged.

The Beast swung his staff and scrapped off Marek's shoulder, but Marek ignored the blow, striking his opponent's throat.

Stunned, the Beast staggered. Marek kneed him in the stomach and brought his hands down together over the Beast's head.

The Beast fell, his skull smashed in by the sheer force of Marek's blow.

It was the shortest battle in the history of the Ratway Pits.

* * *

Men of the Thieves' Guild went up to their Guildmaster, demanding to know why the Beast lost. Why he died.

Loki's answer? "_Va ba._ It is," he replied with a cheeky grin.

He walked away with nine thousand gold.


	8. Two Cats Meet in the Middle of the Night

**Two Cats Meet in the Middle of the Night**

"_I swear on Lorkhaj, Alkosh, Rahjin, whoever you want. I had no idea that that would happen. It wasn't in my plan._" – from the personal diaries of Loki Dar'Renrij, Guildmaster

"_Did I know he was a thief? No. I'd had no idea. I was just happy to know another Khajiit. I didn't know any of my own kind. I'd been around Nords for so long, it was nice to see a friendly face._" – from the journal of Marek Do'Renrij, the Punchcat Paladin

* * *

Loki looked up at the second story windows of the excessively large house. It was far bigger than his own Honeyside, back in Riften. He wore the elegant clothes of a rich merchant, his disguise in Solitude. His mean-tempered horse, Sianach, had even carried trinkets and jewels to sell.

But that wasn't why he was here. The jewels were fake and the trinkets garbage. They were still packed up on his horse.

For all that Skyrim was now under High King Stormcloak's rule, the Empire could still find friends in Solitude. Loki, not a fan of either side, was hired to steal from a former Imperial soldier.

The soldier, a Legate, now lived in this vast manor that Loki stood by. He'd profited from the war. Now, it was time to redistribute his wealth.

Loki nodded to himself before returning to the Winking Skeever. The tavern smelled like all taverns should: full of booze and full of life. The bard sang about the Dragonborn, a song that most everyone liked.

'_I never liked this song_,' a voice said inside Loki's head.

'_Shut up, Alduin_,' Loki thought wearily at the soul that had plagued him for eighteen-odd years.

He waved to the bartender, trying to ignore Alduin. "This one would like some ale, if you wouldn't mind, friend," Loki said, making his Khajiit accent far heavier than normal, as if he were just out of Elsweyr.

The bartender nodded and got him the ale. It wasn't the best of ales, but it wasn't the worst horse piss, either. He took a swig and ordered some stew.

As he grew tired, he rented a room for two nights. He didn't plan on staying more than one, and he hopefully wouldn't even be in the city by daybreak, but it always paid to have a back up plan.

His tail twitched in anxiousness. He hadn't been on a solo mission in a while. Watching over new recruits was interesting, but there was nothing like the excitement of doing everything perfectly. He felt for his old blue sword hidden underneath the merchant's clothes. Still there, still banging against his leg like it always did.

He changed out of his merchant clothes and into his Guild armor. Dark grey leather he mottled with dark green, brown, and black paint, a few knives, his sword, and a bow and arrows. He made sure that the door to his room was locked and blocked by a chair.

Loki tossed himself on to the bed. He had a few hours to kill before the owners were safely asleep. Might as well use it to sleep, so that he wouldn't be tired on the road back to Riften.

* * *

Marek Dar'Renrij sat in simple clothes by the Paladins' caravan, cleaning the latest blood off his gauntlets.

"Not bad out there, kid. I wasn't expecting five on one, but you did well," Gerich commented.

Marek grunted. "Wasn't a fair fight. Now I have to get all this stupid blood off my gauntlets," he growled while scrubbing furiously at a bloody groove on his right gauntlet.

Gerich pulled the gauntlet out of his claws. "I'll make the new blood clean them. You deserve a drink and a meal. I'll take you over to the Winking Skeever."

"But I always clean my own gauntlets! It doesn't feel right making someone else do it."

"You're our champion now, kid. You don't have to." Gerich called over to the newest Paladin, Lairah the Redguard. "Mind cleaning Punchcat's gloves, sweetheart?" he asked in a flirting voice.

"Only if you never use that tone with me again, you filthy Nord," she said sardonically. She grabbed the gauntlets and went to clean them.

Gerich shook his head sadly. Marek raised an eyebrow at him.

"What?" the Nord asked.

"I thought you knew she liked women."

* * *

Loki woke several hours after he first fell asleep. He checked the time by the moon. Right on schedule. He checked everything once again, satisfied that nothing would fall off when he left.

He opened the window and crawled out. He leapt from rooftop to rooftop to reach his destination.

Proudspire Manor, home of the former Legate Gratus himself.

* * *

Marek supported Gerich stumbled drunkenly out of the Winking Skeever. Oddly, the Khajiit held his drink better than the Nord did.

Something on the roofs caught Marek's eye. He looked up and noticed a hidden thief making his way towards a large home.

Setting Gerich gently onto a bench where the Nord started to drunkenly sing Ragnar the Red, Marek fully extended his claws and followed the thief. He couldn't let one prey on an innocent person.

The night was dark and quiet. Marek, while not sneaky, had a natural soft step that seemed to be a part of every Khajiit. Without his armor, he wasn't half bad at sneaking.

This thief seemed to be better, almost part shadow himself. The only way Marek could find him was by smell, because this thief was a Khajiit as well.

He stooped down to grab a rock. He had no weapons on him, not even his daggers. A thrown rock would have to do.

He saw the thief leap from a roof onto another. It looked like the other Khajiit would jump to the largest house Marek could see.

Marek took aim and threw the rock.

* * *

Loki leapt towards the last roof when something knocked him off balance. He tumbled down to the ground, but, with a twitch of his tail, he landed on his feet. He looked towards his assailant, who had stepped into the light with his throw.

"_S'rendarr hates this one,_" he thought to himself. He saw the pit fighter, Marek, standing in front of him. He was glad he'd landed in a shadowed alley.

"_Vex is going to kill me,_" was his next thought, since he'd have to abandon the mission now.

Marek started to walk towards him.

Loki quickly and quietly pulled out his bow and notched an arrow. He fired, aiming for Marek's right shoulder. It hit, giving him enough time to slip through the shadows and away from the other Khajiit.

Before he really left, he murmured to the other, "Don't mess with what you don't understand, Landless Warrior. That one works with the Thalmor." He vanished, jumping up to the roof of a building and catching the edge of it. He swung himself up onto the roof and ran.

"Come back here, you coward!" Do'Renrij called after him.

Reluctantly, Loki left, going behind a loud drunkard by the Winking Skeever and climbing over the wall. He landed outside the walls and whistled for his horse.

Sianach ran over to him, her white blaze on her forehead almost glowing against her black body. As mean tempered as she usually was, she allowed Loki to quickly clamber onto her back. Sianach knew her owner long enough to understand when she shouldn't be contrary.

And with that, Loki rode off, riding Sianach hard until he reached Morthal, when he let his horse relax into a trot.

* * *

Marek twisted the steel arrow out of his shoulder.

His friend, Dar'Renrij, was a thief. His fellow Khajiit, Dar'Renrij, tried to kill him.

His face twisted into a grimace as he walked back to the tavern, gripping his shoulder. He kicked the door down rather than try to open it with his currently useless arm.

"Bandages," he growled to the nearest barmaid, his mood rotten.

As his shoulder was bandaged up, he made up his mind that he would kill Dar'Renrij the next time he saw the other Khajiit.

He grudgingly said, "Thank you," to the woman who bandaged his arm. She was slightly older than the women he was usually around, but she was beautiful in a rugged way, like much of Skyrim itself.

"You're welcome," she said. "You know, I've only seen one other Khajiit within city walls before."

"He was probably a thief and a coward."

"Aye, Loki was a thief," she said, staring off into the distance. Marek looked up to her. "He never hid that from me. But a coward? No. He just knew what was important." She smiled sadly. "I haven't seen him in years, back when I lived in Whiterun."

"No, the other Khajiit I knew was called Dar'Renrij."

She cocked her head curiously. "That was one of Loki's names. He had a lot."

"He shot me with an arrow."

"Well, he has good reason to. You were interrupting his work."

"His… work?! He's a thief! A dishonorable, no-good, lousy thief!"

The woman slapped Marek's face. His cheek stung. "You will not talk about Loki like that again. Thieving is the only way he could ever make a living in this damned land. Every other Khajiit is forced to live as a bandit or part of a caravan."

The words stung more than the slap. "Why can't other Khajiits just do what I do?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You really are naïve. Haven't you noticed how nasty other Nords treat the beast races?"

Marek shook his head. "It still doesn't matter, really. He's still a thief. And he still tried to kill me."

"No, he didn't." Marek looked up at her. "If Loki was trying to kill you, he'd have done it."

Finishing up the bandaging, she stood up. "So, who are you?"

"Marek Do'Renrij."

"Marek Landless-Warrior, hmn? I'm Ysolda. I'm the go-between for caravans and cities. Loki's an old friend."

"You know what my name means?"

She raised an eyebrow again. "You don't speak Ta'agra?"

Marek shook his head. "No. I never learned. I left my family when I was young and started to fight with my fists. Grew up mostly with the Paladins. Can't even read."

Ysolda nodded her head. "Well, it looks like the sun's coming up. Would you like to get me breakfast and have me teach you the language of your people."

Marek stood up. A pretty woman who wanted to teach him about Khajiit? "Well, why not?"


	9. Two Cats Meet in a Daedra's Game I

**Two Cats Meet in a Daedra's Game I**

A Khajiit, graceful and silent, walked into the Bee and the Barb. He was dressed in ragged miner's clothing and an Alik'r-style hood, but every Riften native knew who he was by the bow on his back and the sharp glint in his eye.

"The usual, Keerava," he said in a low voice. The bartender nodded and handed him a bottle of Black-Briar Mead. The Khajiit took a swig and grimaced.

"I always did prefer Honningbrew," he muttered. He left the bar area without paying and, instead, walked up the stairs to the second floor. Everyone knew why he was there, but no one said anything. It was best not to question him.

Oddly, another Khajiit walked in. This one was boistrous and strong, wearing steel armor clearly made for him. He was surrounded by Nords and a Redguard, all dressed in the armor of the Paladins, the pit fighter's guild from Windhelm.

One Nord, dressed in leather armor, went to the bar and ordered mead for everyone in the tavern. He jerked his head towards the Khajiit. "That cat over there just became the champion pit fighter of our entire league!" the Nord grinned.

Everyone jumped at the chance to get free mead, except a stocky Breton conjuror in the corner, who merely continued to drink his mead. With a smile on his face, he watched the tavern devolve into a drunken party.

* * *

On the floor above the mead fest, the first Khajiit stared down his... acquaintance.

"No, Maven."

The Nord woman sneered. "You're just being weak again, Loki."

"Refusing to put my people's lives at risk for no gain is not weak, Maven." His hand rested on a Daedric dagger in his belt.

"You know, the Jarls call you Loki No-Balls," Maven said, standing up from her chair. "There are fewer thieves in jail, and less are being reported. They all know you aren't sending them out. They celebrate because a milk-drinker is in charge of the crumbling Thieves' Guild."

"What I do with my people is of no concern to you, Maven," Loki said calmly. He raised a brow, wondering why she was trying to rile him up.

Maven leaned in close. "Tell me what you're planning."

Loki took one step back, his hand still on his knife. His tail twitched. "No, Maven. I believe our business meeting has concluded."

"I can still bring you down, Loki. I made the Thieves' Guild what it is today."

"Crumbling and under a milk-drinker's lead?" he tossed her own words back at her. He shook his head and said as he walked to the stairs, "You made the Guild what it was, Black-Briar. _I_ make it what it is."

'_Can you please just shout at this bitch_?' Alduin asked inside Loki's head.

Ignoring the voice, Loki continued. "And I will decide what it does without you." He bared his teeth in a grin and left the Nord woman burning with a cold anger.

* * *

Loki Dar'Renrij stepped away from the relative calm of the second floor of the tavern to the drunken party on the first.

He raised his brow when he noticed Marek Do'Renrij, the pit fighter. Staying towards the edge of the crowd to avoid the other Khajiit, Loki ordered ale from Keerava, paying for the drink this time.

"Well, if it isn't my old drinking buddy," he heard a vaguely familiar voice say. He turned towards it.

"Sanguine."

"Sam Guevenne, please," the disguised Daedra said. Though he looked like a Breton, his eyes were the same as they always were.

"I'm not interested in a drinking contest this time," the Khajiit said, smiling.

Sam laughed. "This party is good enough for me. The other Khajiit over there is piss drunk by now, with all the mead he's had."

Loki stared at the warrior Khajiit. "He's going to get himself killed someday. The kid is stupidly naive." Alduin chuckled at that, sending a shiver down Loki's spine.

"You know him?"

"I met him in New Gnisis a few months ago. He's a decent pit fighter, but he has a stupid sense of honor. He's not very Khajiit-like." Marek was also a Cathay, a kind of Khajiit rare this far north. Loki's tail twitched nervously, although his face was calm and collected.

Sam's eyes gleamed. "Well, maybe it's time to get you two to be friends, Spirit-Thief," he said with a grin.

Loki closed his eyes. He knew what was coming. "Fuck me," he groaned. "Not again." Sanguine's power washed over him, and he was compelled to drink until he blacked out.

* * *

Marek woke up with a nasty headache. He groaned as he sat up and tried to figure out where he was. The walls were high and circular, and there was a definite sense of magic in the air.

Cradling his head in his hand, he pushed himself off the floor and almost vomited on himself.

"Ugh, normally I can hold my drink," he muttered to himself.

"Not under Sanguine's power, though. No mortal can," Marek heard a familiar voice. He looked at Loki, who was standing against the wall.

"What are you talking about?"

"Sanguine, the Daedric Prince of debauchery, got us drunk. Last time he did this, I was a wanted man across Skyrim, although I don't think we are this time. He also stole my sword, and I want it back."

Marek checked his own inventory. "My Little Claws are gone," he remarked. The daggers had sentimental value, but he didn't need them to fight. Their loss wasn't a tragedy. "We're going to get them back, right?"

Loki regarded Marek curiously. "You aren't as angry as I thought you'd be, Do'Renrij."

"I don't need my Little Claws to fight."

"I wasn't talking about your daggers. I was talking about me."

Marek grunted. "Ysolda talked me out of killing you. You're still thief-scum."

Loki raised his brow. "So, she's been teaching you Ta'agra. The proper translation is landless thief, like yours is landless warrior." He calmly strode across the room to the other Khajiit, who still looked queasy. "Drink this," he said, handing Marek a potion.

Marek looked at the potion skeptically.

"It's just a restoration potion. You'll need it to recover after you puke up."

"How do you know I'm going to-" He puked.

* * *

"So, where are we?" Marek asked quietly. The two Khajiit were swiftly moving along, Loki in the lead.

"College of Winterhold. I do not want to be found here. Specifically, I don't want to be found by a certain Breton," Loki mumbled, audible only to Marek's Khajiit ears.

Loki motioned Marek to stop when they reached a door. Notching an arrow in his bow, Loki slowly pushed the door open, and he looked carefully for anyone. Nothing in sight, and no smells of others.

Shoulders relaxing in relief, he led Marek out and towards the College's exit.

"I thought I'd told you never to come back, Land-Strider."

Loki spun and fired an arrow towards the voice, but the mage had already disappeared. Marek's claws fully extended. "What kind of trouble we looking at?"

"Master level Illusion and Destruction magic," Loki said, notching a poisoned Daedric arrow. "And whatever else Tam's learned in the seventeen years I've avoided him and Winterhold."

A fireball flew out at the two Khajiit, and Loki fired his arrow into it's path, leaping to the side after his shot.

The Breton mage was visible for a moment, twisting the arrow out of his shoulder. He was clearly trying to use his magic, but he couldn't.

Marek ran towards him and fought with the skill of a champion pit fighter. Dirty punch to the balls, upper cut to the jaw, stomach punch, and smacked down to the ground.

Loki walked over, another poisoned arrow notched in his wooden bow. "How's the magicka poison feel, Tam?"

"I forbade you from coming here! There are wards against your entrance! How in Azura's name did you get here?!" the furious Breton roared.

"Well, Daedra were involved this time," Loki said, remaining calm. "I was just leaving with this kid here."

"Then leave!" Tam yelled. The two Khajiit left, but not before Loki gave the mage another dose of poison via arrow to the shoulder.

* * *

"So, story behind that?"

Loki grunted in response. "Not much to tell."

Marek prodded him in the ribs which, from a large Khajiit, hurt. "Come on, we're walking to Windhelm. Might as well kill time with a story when we're not slaughtering bandits."

Loki glanced over at Marek. The large, dark gold Khajiit seemed relaxed, especially since the last bandit attack. The bandits' blood still caked his gauntlets and forearms. His mane was long and matted with sweat. He was as big as an Orc Chief, maybe even larger.

Comparatively, Loki was slender and of average height. His fur was mottled grey-browns and white, and his mane was cropped short save for a braid that ran behind his left ear and fell to his jawline.

The most glaring difference to the Elsweyr-born Khajiit, however, was the sheer amount of rings in Marek's ears. No one but the Cathay-Raht guards of the Mane wore that many rings besides the Mane himself. They told of the Khajiit's lineage. Marek's rings were complex, far more so than most Khajiit's.

Loki, the son of a minor noble, had one simple ring on his braid and none in his ears.

He shook his head, tearing his mind away from their differences. "Fine, I'll tell you the story."

He threw his dagger at a nearby snow fox and bent to retrieve it. Skinning the fox while walking, he started to talk. "This starts when I was just a low-ranking member of the Thieves' Guild. I was good, but not the best. Not by a long shot. The only reason I got this job was because I had a knack for magic." To demonstrate, he conjured up a ball of light. "I wasn't even a senior operative yet."

"I had to steal a staff from the Archmage, but I had to get him to trust me first. So I had to enroll in the College as a student for a while. I learned some Illusion magic, but I was never the best. Tam was always the star student.

"For a while, I did act the part of a student. Actually going to class and learning magic. I pretended to be friends with most of my classmates, but I actually became friends with Tamris." He sighed, all the guilty memories coming back up.

"After a while, I found an opportunity to steal the staff. It wasn't a big one, just a simple ice storm spell enchanted into a crystal. The only real value it had was in who owned it. I slipped in and out of the Archmage's chamber without a hitch. Just as I was leaving, though, I ran into Tam."

Loki shook his head. "He saw the staff, and he figured out what happened. In the span of a few seconds, he turned from my best friend into a pissed off mage. I barely got away, and that was only because he has bad aim when he's angry. That's how I knew him, and why he hates me."

"Wow," Marek murmured. "You've got guts."

Loki shrugged. "I guess."

"Just one question," Marek started. He hesitated.

Loki's brow rose of its own accord. "Yes?"

"Why didn't you just stay at the College?"

Loki looked away from the other Khajiit, towards the horizon. "I didn't stay away. I've always been able to bypass his wards to steal things. I stole his Arch Mage robes, the day after he was given them."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"I'm a thief. It's in my blood, just as much as the deserts of Elsweyr are."

They continued on in awkward silence for another half hour, until Loki said, "Hmn. We're here." The docks of Windhelm were in sight. So were the Argonian workers who spent their entire lives on the docks.

Marek broke into a grin. "Home," he breathed, and he broke into a run towards the docks. Loki followed at a slower pace, keeping an eye out for Stormcloak soldiers. He and Ulfric hadn't parted on good terms.


	10. Two Cats Meet in a Daedra's Game II

**Two Cats Meet in a Daedra's Game II**

"By the Nine, Marek, where were you?" Gerich asked as soon as Marek walked down the stairs to the Pit Fighters' Guild.

Marek grinned, feeling at home. "The College. A Daedra got me drunk, for once."

"You, drunk? I don't believe it. Hey, Lairah, do you believe it?" the Nord asked, calling over to a Redguard woman.

"Shut up, Gerich," Lariah responded.

Gerich sighed in defeat. Marek shook his head, knowing that Lairah liked women. Gerich wouldn't give up no matter how many times it was beaten into his head.

"Anyways," Marek said. "This is Loki, a friend of mine."

Loki walked down the stairs and into a room of brawny fighters. He raised an eyebrow. "I haven't been in a room full of fighters since this one stole pieces of Wuuthrad from the Companions." He let his Elsweyr accent creep into his normal speech pattern, feeling a little defensive and ready to bolt. The mission with the Companions hadn't gone well, because of his old friend Frey.

Marek saw and told the other Khajiit to relax. "They're my family. You don't have to worry."

Despite the reassurance, Loki's tail couldn't help but twitch. His voice, however, returned to its calm, usual self. "We should hurry up and get moving, Marek. The last I remember, the entrance to Sanguine's realm is in Morvunskar."

Gerich walked up to Loki. "A bowman, huh? And clearly a thief. How'd Marek dig up you?"

Loki glanced over to Marek before responding. "A chance meeting in a bar, really."

Gerich smiled, liking the answer. "Well, how about I take you two out for a drink before you go?"

Loki's smile left his face. "Drinking last time cost me my sword and Marek his daggers. I'll retrieve them first before I drink. I don't trust myself to be drunk in Sanguine's realm." He gestured to Marek that they should go.

"All right, all right. Let me just grab something from my trunk," Marek said as he ran to the back room.

He reappeared a moment later with a steel helm. He pulled it on over his ears and head. "Ready when you are."

* * *

The wizards were easy to take care of. A poisoned arrow to the back or a punch in the face was all it took. They went through the abandoned fort with ease.

"You know, I should probably tell you a story from my life," Marek remarked.

Loki shot another arrow. "What?"

"You told me your College story. It's only fair I told you one of my own." He tore out another throat like it was nothing.

_To a Cathay like him, it is nothing,_ Loki thought to himself, although he had his suspicions about what Marek really was. "Go ahead, if you want."

"Well, I told you how I grew up with a caravan, right? Okay, so, I got into a fight with some Nord kid when my caravan was in Windhelm. I was already bigger than him, but I'd never learned how to fight, so the kid had an advantage."

Loki nodded. "Go on."

"Anyway, I won the fight. And Gerich saw. _I_ thought I'd get in trouble, but Gerich decided to recruit me into the guild. I left my caravan that week. It wasn't that bad for me, because they weren't really my family."

"Wait, what? I thought the caravans were extended families?" Loki asked, almost getting hit by an ice spike. He fired an arrow at the wizard in response.

Marek shrugged. "They are, but everyone made sure that I knew I wasn't part of their family. Ri'saad treated me okay, but it wasn't like they were really my family."

Loki nodded. The pieces were falling in place. "Continue with your story, please."

"So, I lived with the pit fighters since I was nine and started training when I was about ten. Wow, nine years ago. It feels so much longer. Anyways, one day I ran away from the guild for some stupid reason. I don't even remember it any more, it was that long ago."

"Get to the point," Loki growled. Marek had a roundabout way of getting to the point of the story. Even Elsweyr born and bred Khajiits were not this roundabout with their stories.

"Sorry, sorry. So, I was wandering the streets of the Stone Quarter of Windhelm. I got hungry and asked the shopkeepers for some food, but no one gave me any. Finally, Oengul the blacksmith got annoyed and put me to work to earn some food. That's how I started making my own armor." He showed his bloody armor off before ripping a wizard's face in two.

"So, Gerich finally found me, but I had already made a dagger and a helmet. Everyday afterward, I went and learned the smithing trade with Hermir for a part of each day."

When he didn't continue, Loki prodded him. "That it?"

"Mhm."

Loki scoffed. "You have no interesting stories."

"We can't all be thieves with exciting tales of angry mages. Some of us work for a living," Marek laughed in response.

Loki smirked. The pair of Khajiit approached a portal.

Loki approached it apprehensively, with Marek following close behind. Both of their tails were twitching.

"I was wondering when you two would show up," a Breton conjuror said.

Marek prepared to charge, but Loki held him back. "That's Sanguine."

Sanguine grinned. "Got it in one, Spirit-Thief." He changed into his Daedric form with a beer belly. "I told you my plan would work, old friend."

Loki glared at Sanguine. "First, we are not friends. You stole my sword and got me in trouble. Again. Secondly, we only came for my sword and Marek's daggers." His voice was flat, but his anger at the meddling Daedra leaked into it.

'_Remember, I'm always here, Ziitafiir_,' Alduin reminded him.

Sanguine's face lost its smile. "Very well. I was trying to help you two."

"On whose orders?"

Silence. Marek stared at Loki, then Sanguine, then back to Loki, uncomprehending. Loki's hand was on his dagger, ready to throw it at the Daedra. Sanguine looked almost as confused as Marek felt, but it was a different kind of confused.

"Who told you?"

"Baan Dar and Rahjiin were not the only clever Khajiit. I'm the master of the Thieves' Guild and the _Dovahkriid_. I should know a few things about how gods play with mortals."

Sanguine stuck out his tongue. "Then you should know that I'm not telling. Here's your stupid weapons. Get out of my realm. You're no fun anymore, Spirit-Thief."

A blue sword and two steel daggers appeared out of thin air. Marek took his Little Claws, and Loki took _Tafiirzinyah_. The blue blade glowed for a moment as its master gripped the hilt, and then Loki stuck it in his scabbard. Without a word, he walked out of Morvunskar, Marek following behind.

* * *

"Why did he call you Spirit-Thief?" Marek asked as they walked out of the old fort.

"Long story. Not telling it," Loki said gruffly.

"What's your deal, Loki?"

Loki stalked along. "You. The Daedra. Everyone. The damned pieces are falling in place, and my mistakes are catching up to me."

Marek grabbed his shoulder and turned him around. "Explain. Now." He stared straight into Loki's eyes until Loki turned his head away.

"You've always had those rings in your ears, haven't you?"

Marek's hand went up to his helm, which covered his heads. "Yeah, so?"

Loki pulled back the A'likr hood he wore, exposing the ring on the single braid in his mane. "Those rings of yours are made by Altmer. True Khajiit family rings are far simpler."

He pulled the hood back over his head, hiding his short mane. "More rings means wealth, usually, but the only others who wear as many rings as you are the most important Khajiit in Elsweyr. Usually Thalmor collaborators like the damned Mane Solrabi."

"Wait... what are you saying?" Marek asked skeptically.

Loki met the younger Khajiit's eyes again. "You are something far more important than a Cathay pit fighter. You can cause another civil war in Elsweyr, if you chose to."

Marek tossed his head back and laughed. His laugh faded away when Loki didn't join in. "You... you're serious."

Loki nodded. "And the Daedra know."

"And they want us to be friends why?"

Loki looked away. "Somethings are best left unsaid. Let's get back to Windhelm." He tore away from Marek's grip and started walking.

"Tell me," Marek said. His tone held an authority he didn't have.

Loki looked behind him. "The day I start taking orders from you is the day Sheggorath steals my mind and Jone and Jode disappear from the sky again."

* * *

The black horse with a shining white blaze tore through the landscape of Eastmarch, heading towards the Rift. Her rider, a cloaked Khajiit, barely noticed the spirited animal beneath him or the beautiful mountains and lakes he passed.

His face was clouded, and his mind deep in thought. His blue sword glowed within its scabbard.

Overhead, a hawk soared. It circled the rider and dropped a letter in his lap.

Surprised, Loki slowed Sianach's pace and looked at the note. It was sealed in wax with two dragon words on it. _Lok Thu'um_. Sky above, voice within.

"Oh gods damn it."

'_I concur_.'

"What does Frey want _now_?"


	11. Two Cats Meet in an Uprising I

**Two Cats Meet in an Uprising I**

Loki slammed the Ratway door open. "Gods damn mercenaries, gods damn skeevers, gods damn Alduin, and gods damn that Black-Briar bitch!" he snarled to his thieves. His face was splattered with blood, and he clearly needed to clean his sword.

"You've been missing for a week, Dar'Renrij," Vex said to her Guildmaster. "There was no way to warn you that Maven had-"

"Damn Maven, I knew that was coming! It's that it came on top of _this_!" He slammed a letter onto a table. The wax seal, although broken, clearly had dragonscript on it.

Vex carefully took the letter and read it. "What the hell does Frey want now?"

"I don't know. It's been ten years since the stupid idiot last called a meeting." Loki swore in Ta'agra.

"So who are you going to deal with first? Maven or Frey?"

Loki's tail twitched in thought. He took out his Daedric dagger and tossed it up and down in his right hand. "I know more about the dragon language than Frey does, although he'll never admit it. That stupid Nord probably needs help if he's actually contacting me."

'_That, or he found out about me._'

"Shut it, Alduin."

'_I was just mentioning that, Ziitafiir_."

Vex cocked an eyebrow. "He talking with you again."

Loki nodded. He switched hands but kept the same rhythm of throwing the dagger up and down. "Now on the other hand, Maven is a more immediate threat to the guild." He stopped tossing his dagger and slumped in a chair. "When did being a thief become bloody politics?"

Vex took a seat. "I'd go with Frey. The last time he did call a meeting, Alduin was killed, supposedly. Mercer went to that one. Karliah and I can deal with Maven until you get back."

Loki nodded, although he murmured under his breath, "This can't all be a coincidence."

He stood up. _Tafiirzinyah_, his sword, was glowing through the scabbard. The Khajiit sheathed his dagger. "To High Hrothgar it is."

* * *

Marek walked into the Pit Fighters' Guild, armor bloody from yet another fight. He sat down in a chair as someone brought him a leg of goat and some mead. Gerich sat across from him.

"Your form's still good, kid, but your heart hasn't been in the fight in days. What's eating you?" the Nord asked.

"A lot," Marek grunted, not offering anything more. He bit into his goat leg.

He sighed. "You should talk it out with somebody, kid. It won't go away if you ignore it."

Marek grunted again. "I don't want to talk about it, Gerich."

Gerich sighed. The Khajiit could be very stubborn when he wanted to be. He shook his head. "Anyways, I've got a favor to ask you. It'll give you a few days of rest from the pits."

Marek raised a brow in interest.

"I've got an old friend up on High Hrothgar, back from my mercenary days. Frey sent me a letter recently, but I've got a guild to run, and I can't leave for more than a day or so. I want you to take my reply to him."

"How will I get there?" Marek asked.

"Ulundil owes me a favor. You'll use one of his horses, and I'll pay for it if it dies."

Marek nodded. "Got it. I'll get going."

* * *

Loki rode up to the top of the mountain. "Damned Greybeards, building their fort all the way up here," he murmured, although there was no real anger in his words. All his anger was reserved for his old 'friend,' Frey. He tied up his black horse, Sianach, on a post in the shelter he'd built with Frey years before.

The Khajiit wore simple miner's clothes with an Alik'r hood, but his bow, sword, and dagger betrayed who he really was. He walked up the last steps to High Hrothgar and slammed the door open. A quick glance told him exactly what he needed to know.

Over in the far corner stood Tam in full Archmage's robes. The Breton and the Khajiit glared at each other for a moment before pointedly avoiding each other. Tam resumed talking with the Harbinger of the Companions, and Loki went over to an old friend of his, one who he still considered a friend.

"It's been a while, Ralof."

"Aye," the blond Nord grinned at the sight of Loki's brown fur. "How long ago was it that I saved your ass at Helgen, Stormtail?"

"Far too long. I haven't been to Riverwood in ages. Or been called Stormtail. How's you family doing?"

"Well enough. The little ones are getting to be a handful, little Hadvar in particular."

Loki sighed. "Too bad he can never meet his namesake."

Ralof shrugged sadly. "It was war. We won, they lost. But, I do miss my friend."

The two sat together, silently reminiscing, when Ralof said, "Enough sadness. How have you been, Loki? I haven't seen you in years."

The Khajiit yawned. "Pretty good, until the past month. It's been... weird."

"I've heard of Maven's uprising in Riften. How are you handling that?"

"It's being handled. I-" He paused, catching sight of a very familiar Nord woman. "I have to go..." he trailed off, standing and walking over to his former lover.

"Ysolda," he murmured to her by way of greeting.

The Nord woman smirked. "Fancy seeing you here, Loki."

"The caravans treating you well?" he asked, giving her a quick nuzzle. They were no longer lovers, not for many years, but they were still very good friends. Loki considered Ysolda to be a sister.

"Aye. I met a friend of yours a few weeks ago."

Loki sighed. "Marek, yes. He is... _ja_. A naive young cat. He will learn, even if I have to beat it into his head."

Ysolda elbowed the Khajiit. "I thought you'd sworn off having children."

Loki gave the Nord a playful swat. "He's not mine. I'm a _mentor_ to him, although he has an odd sense of morals and doesn't always take my good advice." Ysolda snorted at that.

"If you all are done talking..." a loud voice growled. Loki's ears pricked up, and his tail started twitching.

At the top of the stairs stood a tall and strong Nord wearing dragonbone armor. The armor was battered and scarred, a clear sign of use. The Nord had bright red hair and dark eyes. Strapped to the Nord's back was an iron greatsword, an odd weapon to those who did not know the Nord.

Loki knew him. Loki knew the name of the greatsword, _Yoluthzii_. Fire, order, spirit. A fitting name for this particular sword.

Loki leaned on one leg, hand on his own sword. "What is this all about, Frey?" he asked, voice ringing loud in the now silent halls of High Hrothgar.

The Nord grimaced at being interrupted by Loki. "The Thalmor."

The entire hall erupted in murmurs. Ralof called out, "We kicked those yellow bastards out of Skyrim a decade ago!"

Frey held up a hand for silence. "I know. But they threaten us with an army far greater than any Skyrim can muster."

"Why bother? How does that matter to all of us? I see Loki No-Balls, General Ralof, the Harbinger, and, of course, myself," Tam the Archmage drawled. Loki bristled a little at the No-Balls title. "What do the Thalmor want that could possibly bother everyone in this room?"

"To start with, I invited you all because you're the most powerful and well-known people in Skyrim. As to the Thalmor, how much do you all know about Elsweyr?"

Loki moved instinctively, starting to draw his sword. Only Ysolda's hand on his shoulder calmed him down.

"Don't give yourself away," she muttered, audible only to Loki's ears.

Frey continued with his speech. "The Mane, the Khajiits' 'High King,' so to speak, has a bastard son. The Thalmor want him." Loki bristled at the lie, his fur standing on end.

"Look in bloody Elsweyr, then!" a Nord called out.

"He is in Skyrim. I actually know where he is. I've gathered you all to decide whether we hand over this boy or go to war." He stared out at the crowd, meeting everyone's eyes. "One Khajiit, or all of Skyrim."

"Enough of this farce, Frey," Loki snarled. He stepped into the center of the room and faced the red-haired Nord.

"It's not a farce, Dar'Renrij."

Loki scoffed. "The Thalmor don't want to go to war with us. They're too busy dealing with the rebellions in Valenwood and Elsweyr, not to mention the Empire, to bother with us. Believe me, this one has enough connections to know if anything would happen. The Mane has no bastard. I know the _ja_ you are talking about, and he is definitely not Solrabi's blood. No, you want him for another reason."

The Khajiit stared long and hard into the Nord's eyes. High Hrothgar was silent around them. Realization dawned on Loki as he saw what lay within the hard, cold eyes of Frey. His eyes narrowed. Alduin roared inside him.

"You... you're not stopping a war. You're starting one, you pathetic excuse for a Dragonborn! The _Dovahkiin _of Skyrim is collaborating with the Thalmor."


	12. Two Cats Meet in an Uprising II

**Two Cats Meet in an Uprising II**

Marek rode up to High Hrothgar, snow covering him and his borrowed horse. He ignored it. Growing up in Windhelm, he was used to being cold. He brushed some of the snow off his golden fur.

He dismounted a little awkwardly in his steel armor, and he tied up the brown horse next to a black horse with a white blaze. It was the only available post, although most of the other posts had three, sometimes four horses on them. The black mare eyed Marek's borrowed gelding suspiciously.

He climbed up the steps to the door of High Hrothgar, taking of his helmet and brushing the snow off. The Elfish rings in his ears gleamed gold despite the dark day. He pushed open the door.

"- The _Dovahkiin_ of Skyrim is collaborating with the Thalmor."

Marek's ears twitched, recognizing Loki's voice. He pulled his helmet back on and crept quietly towards the voice.

"Please, Dar'Renrij. You've reduced yourself to name calling."

"You've committed yourself to war!" Loki roared.

Marek saw his friend facing down a red-haired Nord. There were others in the room, but all eyes were on the two men in the center of the room.

They were both still, poised to fight. The Nord moved first.

"_FUS RO DAH_!" he called, drawing his greatsword.

"_FEIM_!" Loki shouted, moving away from the nearly invisible force. He became partially invisible, and the bit of the Nord's attack that hit him didn't harm him. He drew his sword as he became visible again.

The two swords clashed, erupting in blue and red flames. Marek's eyes widened.

Loki's sword glowed a brilliant blue and then faded, and the Nord's greatsword shattered.

The Nord stared at the hilt of his greatsword, uncomprehending. Loki moved his sword so that it pointed at the Nord's throat.

"How?" the red-haired Nord asked.

"_Zakriil kren dwinn nikrinne,_" Loki said in a low voice that carried throughout the room. "Your strength may help you in other battles, but this one was always a better _Dovahkriid_ than you ever were."

The brown Khajiit turned away and caught Marek's eye. Loki's eyes widened slightly, and he shook his head imperceptibly.

Marek grimaced and slunk back in the hallway slightly.

Loki glanced at Ysolda as he left. In the hall, he grabbed Marek's shoulder and pulled him outside.

"Did you bring a horse?"

"I- yes?"

"Where did you leave it?"

"Next to a black mare. Why?"

"Same post?"

"Yes?"

Loki gave a loud, shrill whistle. A mare whinnied, and the sound of wood breaking reached the two Khajiits, who quickly descended the stairs.

"We need to leave, now." The older Khajiit's voice was urgent.

"Why?"

Loki flashed him a grin. "I'll explain later. Ever hear of Clearspring Tarn?"

Marek shook his head. The two horses came up to them, the mare dragging Marek's gelding along by the broken post. Loki quickly untied the two horses and handed Marek his reins.

"Good. That's where we're going." He mounted his mare, and Marek mounted his gelding. He urged the horses into a trot and led them down the mountain in an... unconventional way.

* * *

"Fuck you, you could have killed me doing that!"

"It was either a possible danger or imminent death. Frey is not to be trifled with," Loki deadpanned. Their horses galloped away from Ivarstead towards the ridge between the Rift and Eastmarch.

"But you beat him easily!" Marek shot back.

"My sword _Tafiirzinyah_ was made to precisely counter the magic in Frey's sword _Yoluthzii_."

'_Plus you used my own strength, Ziitafiir_.'

'_The ja doesn't need to know that yet._'

"What the hell do these words mean?" the younger Khajiit asked, confused.

"Dragon tongue. Frey and I both learn it instinctively. The only reason he's the Dragonborn and I'm not is because of race."

"Wait, you're the Dragonborn?" Marek asked incredulously.

"No. I'm _Dovahsos_, dragonblood, but I'm not _the_ Dragonborn. That title goes to the Nord. _Tafiirzinyah_ means 'thief seeking honor,' and _Yoluthzii_ is literally 'fire order spirit.' I never asked what Frey precisely meant by it," Loki pondered. "It suits the asshole, though."

They travelled on in silence, climbing the ridge and stopping at a small pond. "We're here," Loki said quietly. He dismounted, and Marek followed suit.

Taking his horses head in his hands, Loki told his horse, "Sianach, I need you to do something for me. You remember where the Windhelm stables are?"

The mare snorted, as if saying it was obvious that she did.

"Take this gelding home, and then run free until you hear my call." The older Khajiit proceeded to take off the black mare's saddle. "Take anything you need off that horse, but leave what's not yours. There's nothing of value that we could easily carry. Sianach will return the gelding for you."

As the horses galloped off, Loki led the way into a small cave off the tarn. "You're going to stay with me for a while, for your own safety."

"Is this the whole 'I'm not a normal Khajiit' thing again?"

"Ye-es," Loki replied, drawing the word out. "Frey and the Thalmor want to use you to start a war."

Marek paused. Loki took the break in the conversation to hit a hidden switch and open a dark tunnel. A small ball of light came to the older Khajiit's fingertips.

The two Khajiit climbed in. "Why me?"

Loki shrugged at the question. "Only Alkosh and Sheggorath might know. Perhaps Baan Dar as well. Or did you mean why do the Thalmor want you?"

"Both, neither, I don't know."

They walked on in silence, guided only by Loki's experience and magic light. They came to a dead end after hours.

Loki hit another hidden switch. "Welcome to the Rat...way..." He trailed off.

At the entrance to the door lay a still and bloody body, one Loki knew well.

"Shit, Karliah," he murmured, crouching down to his dead lieutenant.

He closed her eyes and set her aside from the hidden entrance to the Riften sewers. The leader of the Thieves' Guild surveyed the room, discerning just how much damage Maven Black-Briar had done.

Loki saw at least three more bodies of his thieves, as well as a few Black-Briar mercenaries. Most of their goods were gone, although the vault was still fastened shut. It needed two keys, and one was tied around Loki's neck. It did look as if a mage tried to blast it open.

"What happened here?" Marek asked.

"Maven Black-Briar."

The young gold Cathay looked around at his friend's home. It wasn't much to begin with, but the bloody bodies were clearly close to the older Khajiit's heart.

"They might be thieves, but they didn't deserve this," Marek breathed.

Loki's eyes hardened, and his rage built. He replied coldly, "S'rendarr grant them mercy, for I have none."


	13. Two Cats Meet an Old Enemy I

**Two Cats Meet an Old Enemy I**

Loki finished tying the straps to his leather armor. The familiar grey Guild leather fit snugly around his lean form. The red cape tied to it had a white magic burst and an inverted black arrow on it, Loki's personal sigil. He had a bow and a quiver full of the deadliest Daedric arrows he had, as well as a blue sword tied to his belt. The sword pulsed with a bright blue light in no discernible pattern.

In front of him, his companion Marek finished repairing his own steel armor. Where Loki was lean and small, Marek was brawny and tall. He wore no weapons, as he used his fists to fight.

"Ready, Marek?"

"Aye."

'_Ready, Alduin?_'

Loki could feel the dragon's soul grin. He hadn't used Alduin's full power in a long, long time. Last night was only a small portion.

Loki pulled his hood over his head. Marek, however, refused to wear a helm, preferring to show off the many elfish rings that decorated his ears.

The pair entered the main part of the Ratway, which stank of fire, blood, and death.

As they exited, Loki turned one more time to survey his home. They'd buried the bodies, but the smell would never leave him.

"Maven is going to pay."

* * *

The pair of Khajiits crept among the trees as they walked towards the Black-Briar Manor. Loki kept an arrow notched on his bow, and Marek kept his fists ready.

Marek, like all Khajiit, could walk quietly, even in heavy armor. Loki, however, was a master of moving silently. He walked like a shadow, nearly imperceptible even to Khajiit eyes.

An arrow whistled past Marek, and he jumped to the side, his armor clattering loudly.

Loki loosed his own arrow, taking down the attacker. He stepped over to the dead man and took his arrow back.

"Black-Briar mercs. We're close," Loki spoke quietly. Marek just nodded.

Loki picked off two more mercenaries outside the manor. There was no one else around there other than a beautiful white horse.

The door was locked. Loki pulled out his lockpicks and began working on it.

"Where did the rest of your thieves end up?"

"I don't know. They probably fled and hid in the shady areas of Riften," Loki grunted as he worked on the challenging lock.

"They were captured," a high, cold voice said from behind the two Khajiit.

Loki whirled around, dropping his lockpicks. He froze at the sight of an Altmeri woman in Thalmor robes.

Marek glanced between the two, confused as to why Loki would freeze up.

"Elenwen..." Loki spoke quietly, voice cracking.

"It's been quite a few years, Loki." Those words held a lot of history behind them. "Eighteen, I believe."

There was a click behind the Khajiit as the door they were just trying to pick opened. Thalmor elves poured out of the house, capturing the shock-still Loki with ease.

Marek, on the other hand, snapped the necks of the first two mer who tried to take him. "Who are you?" he growled to the Altmer as he fought off the warriors. Training took over as he fought as if he was back in the pit. Several mer that went down would never get back up.

A lucky blow to the head, however, sent the warrior Khajiit falling to the ground.

The last thing he saw before he blacked out was the golden-eyed Altmer staring down at him, giving him a curious look.

* * *

Marek woke up, feeling groggy and sore. His shoulders throbbed with a dull but constant ache. The room he was in was small and dark and smelled like rancid shit.

He glanced up.

"Gods damn it," he groaned. His arms were chained above his head, and he wore nothing except a pair of burlap pants.

His armor was gone, his Little Claws were gone, even his tunic was gone. Only the rings in his ears remained.

* * *

Loki awoke in the most comfortable bed he'd been in since he lived in Breezehome in Whiterun. That alone put his nerves on edge. He sat up and took in his surroundings.

This was Maven Black-Briar's room. He'd been in here once before when he stole a Barenziah Stone. It now had the distinctive smell of Thalmor magic.

There was another smell underneath it, one that oddly reminded him of the jungles his mother grew up in. He ignored it.

The door creaked, and he jumped out of the bed, reaching for a knife that wasn't there. Elenwen walked in. The fur on the back of his neck stood, remembering all that this woman caused years before.

"You," he growled.

"Who else?"

The Khajiit and the Altmer stared at each other. Loki was the first to back down, all the fight going out of his posture.

"How many times have I tried to kill you?" he muttered.

"Quite a few. You only came close that one time in the Embassy," she replied. Elenwen walked over to the Khajiit. She towered over Loki.

He glanced up. "What do you want now?"

"Everything I've always wanted and more, Loki."


	14. Two Cats Meet an Old Enemy II

**Two Cats Meet an Old Enemy II**

Marek jerked his arms down in a sudden move, pulling his chain and the brick it was attached to out of the wall. He quickly rolled away. The brick crashed to the floor, where Marek had been a moment before.

He stood up and pulled his wrists apart from each other, breaking the chain connecting them. There were still the shackles, but he could work around those.

"Never seen a cat that strong before," a voice said from elsewhere in the room. Marek turned towards it, seeing a wiry old Breton in black leather armor shackled to the wall. The chains holding him to the wall glowed slightly. He'd seen that armor before, on the body of the dark elf called Karliah when he and Loki buried her.

"You're a thief," Marek said, a statement of fact rather than a question.

The Breton grinned. "Delvin Mallory, at your service. Senior Operative in the Thieves' Guild of Riften. You're that Khajiit kid Loki's taken an interest in."

"How do you know about me?"

"I lost fifty gold on you, when you killed Beast. Think you could break my chains, too?"

That pit fight, weeks ago. Right after he met Loki. It felt like years before.

Marek walked over to Delvin and grabbed the chain holding up the Breton in both hands. In a quick movement, he pulled it apart and broke the chain.

"Thanks, kid," he said, his hands glowing green and the shackles opening.

Marek glared at the Breton and, gesturing to the magic, said, "And you didn't do that before because?"

Delvin grinned. "The chains had a magicka draining enchantment. Standard Thalmor procedures with mages." His hands glowed green again, and the shackles on Marek's wrists fell off.

The Khajiit grunted a thanks. He turned towards the door. "Can you unlock that?"

Delvin examined the lock. "If I had Vex's good lockpicks and the Guildmaster's skills, yes. As it is, no. This is the best lock I've seen since the Guild's own vault."

"Watch out, then."

Delvin barely managed to leap out of the way as Marek sent a powerful side kick at the door.

The door wasn't even dented. Marek grabbed his now-pained foot and hopped on his other leg, swearing loud enough to make a Nord sailor proud.

"Well, we're right screwed, aren't we?" Delvin remarked.

* * *

"You're a Thalmor! What the hell do you want with a cat like me?" Loki snarled to the Thalmor in front of him. "There's a reason I left without a word."

Elenwen merely smiled. "Sometimes, a beast is more useful than a mer."

Loki growled, but his mind raced. Why did this Altmer always have to be so cryptic?

'_Because that's the way elves are. They annoyed me more than the Nords did,_' Alduin grumbled.

She wanted to use him for something where a Khajiit wouldn't draw suspicion, but an elf would.

Elsweyr. It had to be Elsweyr.

What's going on in Elsweyr, though?

Oh, gods no.

"You're going to kill the Mane and replace him. You want complete and utter control."

* * *

The door to their cell creaked open. Delvin and Marek both froze where they were, staring at the open door.

Outside sat an unusually large housecat, mottled brown and grey with bright blue eyes.

"Maven's cat? But..." Delvin whispered, before crouching to look at the cat, who only stared back.

The cat's eyes flashed white momentarily, and a small ball of light appeared above its head, illuminating the room. It grinned and said two words of another tongue. "_Va ba_."

Delvin stared. "Bugger me..."

"What?" Marek asked, incredibly confused.

Delvin grinned and turned to his cellmate. "There's a Khajiit for every purpose. The Guildmaster told me that."

"Woah, woah, woah," Marek said, glancing between the Breton and the cat. "_That_ is a Khajiit?"

The cat nodded.

"An Alfiq, I think. Niruin always mentioned how the Bosmer are terrified of them. Most magically powerful Khajiit, and they look like normal cats. What I'm wondering is why there's one up here in Skyrim."

"I thought Khajiit were bipedal?"

Delvin and the cat both stared at Marek, before cracking into laughter.

Marek just looked blank.

Delvin wiped a small tear from his eyes. "You really didn't know, lad? You've never heard of the Senche-raht battlecats or the Pahmer? You've never read _Mixed-Unit Tactics_?"

Marek scratched behind his head, embarassed. "I can't exactly read..."

Delvin nodded. "I figured as much. Well, let's go break out the rest of the Guild and see if we can find the Guildmaster."

"Wouldn't he be with everyone else?"

Delvin shook his head as he stepped out the door. "He and that Altmer, the Elenwen bitch, have a lot of history between the two of them, most of it unpleasant."

* * *

"Not quite," Elenwen said, looking down at Loki. A ghost of a smile was on her face, as if there was some private joke she knew about. "The real Mane will not be killed."

Loki looked skeptical. "If not the Mane then..." It dawned on him. "Mother of Azurah. Solrabi was born during the theft."

"Precisely. Mane Zoaraym Solrabi is, in truth, a Cathay. He was, however, willing to work with the Thalmor-"

"For the Thalmor, you mean."

"... Willing to work _with_ the Thalmor, and so we disguised him as a Mane. A true Mane was born, oh, about eighteen years ago."

Loki blinked. _Eighteen? But that's..._

"Fuck. You have to be fucking kidding me, Elenwen. That has never happened before. Ever."

"Actually, it has, quite a few times."

"Oh, fuck me."

"I did, once."


	15. Two Cats Meet an Old Enemy III

**Two Cats Meet an Old Enemy III**

The Alfiq's eyes glowed again, unlocking yet another door. Marek broke the chains off the wall for a platinum-blonde Imperial who Delvin called Vex. She gave Marek a once-over as Delvin unlocked her shackles.

"So, you're the Punchcat."

Marek nodded. "Aye, the Punchcat of Windhelm. Vex, was it?"

"Mhm, best infiltrator the Guild's got. Apart from Loki, that is."

"Mind if I ask you all how they caught you all? It seems like they, y'know, shouldn't have."

Vex's face darkened. "It was... not the Guild's finest hour..."

* * *

_I was minding my own business in the Flagon, drinking a mead I'd swindled earlier because I don't drink the crap Vekel over there serves. Delvin sensed something and stood up, which caused to stand up, because I'm not about to let fucking Delvin of all people defend me._

_So, then we heard blasts coming from the Cistern, and Delvin and I ran in there, with Tonilla and Vekel following us. That was everybody in the Flagon, I think._

_So, we saw them slaughter poor Karliah. She's just had a shitty time of it. Then Cynric and Rune went down, and they caught Niruin and Sapphire._

_Well, the four of us tried to fight them. The golden bastards nearly killed us, but their leader, that Elenwen, told them that us alive would be more fucking beneficial to their plans, so they knocked us out._

* * *

"... And we woke up chained here, in Maven's basement. We're not fighters. Me, Delvin, and Loki were about the only good fighters in the entire Guild, unless you count the traitors Maul and Mercer, but we usually don't." Vex shrugged. "That's about it. Except Brynjolf, but I have no idea where he's been."

Marek nodded and opened his mouth to reply, but Tonilla, the Redguard fence, cut him off. "Can you carry Niruin? He's in bad shape."

"Aye. I can do that," Marek said, picking up the Bosmer, who had a broken leg and several burns.

The wood elf looked up at him. "The hell kind of Khajiit are you?"

It was Marek's turn to shrug, albeit gently, given Niruin. "Loki says I'm a Cathay."

"You don't look like any Cathay I've ever seen. And most Alfiqs hate Cathays and Cathay-rahts," Niruin said, gesturing with his arms to the Alfiq.

"I honestly don't know much about Khajiit. I was raised by Nords."

"Clearly, because otherwise you wouldn't have gone near a Bosmer like me, unless you're Loki."

"Speaking of whom, we should probably go find the lad. 'E is our Guildmaster," Delvin murmured.

"Sounds like a plan to me. Mages should probably lead first, since I've got my hands full with Niruin," Marek said, nodding to the Alfiq and Delvin.

The Alfiq rolled his eyes and shook his head, before walking over to a chest by a staircase. "_Thjizzrini, ma'sji_," he spoke, surprising everyone. His eyes glowed white, and the chest opened, revealing their tools and Marek's armor.

Everyone suited up, and Marek picked up Niruin again.

They walked through the manor silently, the Alfiq leading with Tonilla and Delvin, Tonilla's bow ready and Delvin's magicka crackling.

* * *

"He'll never do it," the Khajiit snarled.

"You underestimate the Thalmor, Loki," the Altmer replied in her cold voice. "And, as always, you underestimate me."

"No, you misunderstand him. He was raised by _Nords_ with _Nord_ sensibilities."

"He is merely a child. He will bend, especially if you help us. He trusts you."

Loki growled, a menacing sound if it didn't come from a small Suthay-raht. It sounded like a dragon. "What makes you think I will _ever_ help you?"

"Because you want a better Mane on the throne, as your parents once did."

"Don't you dare bring Lok'nir and Anarkis into this!" he roared, all sense of self-preservation leaving him. He leapt at the Altmer, claws out and magicka brimming, Thu'um building.

Elenwen slammed him against the wall with a spell.

* * *

The Alfiq heard a slam from the second floor, and he ran up after it, the Thieves' Guild on his heels. His eyes flashed white, and the door in front of them broke open.

Marek's eyes widened as he saw the Altmer who'd captured them standing over Loki.

Loki looked terrifying, a deity of destruction. Marek had never seen him like this. The older Khajiit's anger was cold, never hot like this.

An un-Khajiit-like roar came out of Loki's mouth. "_FUS RO DAH_!" Elenwen flew back, hitting the wall as hard as Loki had. Loki staggered from his own shout.

She, however, pushed herself off and cast lightning bolts at the stunned Loki.

Marek shoved Niruin into Vex's arms and barreled into the room, tackling the surprised Altmer. Thalmor guards noticed the group of them and proceeded to attack, keeping the members of the Thieves' Guild busy.

* * *

Marek shoved the Altmer to the ground, hands around her neck. She looked shocked and scared.

Loki had never seen Elenwen look like that before.

"_Fusozay var dar, ma'do_," the Alfiq said to the young Khajiit. Loki turned toward it, stunned that an Alfiq was here, of all places. Especially his own cousin, K'sirr. "_Ahzirr traajijazeri_."

_'Kill without qualm. We justly take by force. You Kaaze have odd ways of saying leinvahzen, world-truths,'_ Alduin thought. Loki nodded to himself.

Marek, lacking any knowledge of Ta'agra, turned towards the Alfiq, uncomprehending. He let up enough that Elenwen could slam him with a fireball spell, knocking him backwards.

"Fuck!"

Loki scrabbled to his feet, all thoughts of Alduin's soul out of his head. "You all right, Marek?"

"Aye, a little pain. Landed on my shoulder."

"Hmn, three utterly different Khajiits in one room," Elenwen remarked, healing herself.

"A Cathay and a Suthay-raht are not so different," Loki murmured.

"You still keep up with the lie around the boy. How amusing."

"_Q'zi no vano thzina ualizz_," the Alfiq, K'sirr, said quietly. _When I contradict myself, I am telling the truth._

Loki gave a grave nod. "The simple truth of the Khajiit."

Marek looked between the three of them, nursing his bruised shoulder. "For the love of Talos, will you all speak straight? Why are you all so bloody confusing?"

The Altmer and the two other Khajiit stared blankly at him.

"He really does act part Nord," Elenwen swore. "Surprising, given that his true heritage is the complete and utter opposite."

The Alfiq looked over at Loki. "_Gzalzi vaberzarita maaszi_," he remarked in Ta'agra. _Absurdity has become necessity_.

"Aye, _maaszi_," Loki responded in the same tongue, albeit a shorter remark. "_Sheggorathra krin_."

Marek groaned in frustration. "How many times to I have to tell you people, I can't speak Ta'agra!"

Loki walked over to him and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "K'sirr is a cousin of mine, through my mother. Alfiq cannot speak Tamriellic or any language other than Ta'agra."

Marek rolled his eyes. "That clears the bloody mess up. So what do we do with the Altmer?"

Loki opened his mouth to speak, but something blasted behind him. He turned quickly to see Elenwen jump out of the hole she'd made in the window. He hurried over just in time to see her mount the white horse outside and run away.

"Cowardly cunt," Marek swore.

Loki only now heard the battle outside the room. He calmly strode out, with all the grace of a Khajiit born to lead.

"Elenwen has fled, Thalmor," he said, baring his teeth in a grin.

The Thalmor fighting the Thieves' Guild stopped where they were and looked between the Guild, Loki, and Marek, who cracked his knuckles menacingly.

"You all know who I am, I'm sure. I recognize several of you from the Embassy years ago," Loki continued. "I'll let you go if you tell me where Maven Black-Briar is and where Elenwen fled to."

The Altmeri guards could not tell him fast enough.

* * *

The entire guild, plus Marek and K'sirr, were back in the Ragged Flagon, drinking mead in near silence. Marek chugged one after the other, and K'sirr drunk daintily from a reasonably clean bowl.

Loki was in the Ratway, blasting fireballs at the lowlifes who lived there.

"Never thought I'd see the day when Maven Black-Briar was dead _and_ I wasn't 'appy about it," Delvin remarked, breaking the silence.

"All men die," Marek murmured.

"Aye, but to die like that in her own home..."

Marek crushed his current bottle in his hand, shattering it.

* * *

Loki emerged from the Ratway eventually, his armor and sword soaked in blood.

"Vex, fetch me a dagger," he growled.

The blonde Imperial, alarmed by Loki's frightening manner, hurried to get the requested dagger.

With a dagger in hand, Loki cut off the single braid he wore and tossed it to Marek's feet.

The entire Guild was silent.

Marek picked up the braid and looked at Loki, confused. "Why?"

Loki met Marek's golden eyes with his own determined blue ones. "Vex, Delvin, pack your bags. And somebody find me Brynjolf. Elsweyr needs a new Mane, Marek Do'renrij Raihan."

* * *

**A/N: Well, this is the last of my buffer of chapters. I'll be working on the next chapter when I have time, but it's usually a month or two between chapters due to school and such. I'll be posting it first on /r/talesfromtamriel on Reddit, then editing it a week later and posting it here.  
**

**Other than that, please review. I like hearing feedback about the story. Over the past few weeks, I've tried to edit out continuity errors between the chapters. Please let me know if you find anything that's weird about the timeline.**


	16. Two Cats Start a War I

**Two Cats Start a War I**

A hawk landed on the windowsill, a letter tied to its leg. It screeched once, just loud enough to wake the inhabitant of the room.

The Breton inside cast a weak fireball at the bird, who flapped away momentarily before landing again.

"What now?" the Breton grumbled. He rolled out of his enormous bed and walked over to the window. He snatched the letter off the hawk's leg before chasing it away with another fireball.

He scanned the letter with a master-level illusion spell, looking for any residual magicka on the paper.

He saw nothing except a small, nearly unnoticeable spell, one he'd created seventeen years before. One he'd only shown to one other person.

He immediately tore the letter open and read through it. "Dear Gods, Loki," he murmured. He placed the letter on his desk, pulled on his Archmage robes, and scribbled a reply before sending his magic through the College, summoning the master-level mages.

* * *

A crow cawed as it perched on a rock outside of Dawnstar. It stood outside an odd door and could not figure out a way to enter.

The door swung inwards, and a red robed child walked out. The crow stared at her, unsure of why the girl made it uneasy.

The child reached for the letter on the crow's leg and tore it off in one motion. "Go now. You aren't needed anymore," she told it.

The crow flew off, happy to leave the cold and miserable place.

The girl opened the letter, her yellow eyes betraying her true age.

"Well, Nazir and Change-eye will want to hear about this," the vampire grinned to herself as she walked back through the Dark Brotherhood's door.

* * *

The gull landed on the drunken Imperial's head, shitting as it landed.

The Imperial batted the bird away, not caring about the white bird shit that rolled off his head and onto his shoulder.

His eyes then noticed the piece of paper tied to the bird's leg, and he reached for it, trying unsuccessfully to grab it.

A Redguard finally came over and grabbed the paper for him. "You are an idiot," she said as she opened the letter for her drunk boss.

As she read it, her eyes widened. "Gerich, sober up," she murmured to the drunk. "Punchcat needs our help."

* * *

The raven landed silently on the desk, having flown in through the open window.

The Nord inside the room knew the bird was there. He turned towards it, his black fur cloak swirling at his feet.

The Nord took the letter from the bird's mouth and looked at the seal on it. An inverted arrow on a starburst. He recognized the symbol but couldn't place it.

He took a dagger from his desk, cutting the seal off efficiently.

The raven looked around the room as it waited patiently, noting all the shiny objects in the room. The one it liked the most was a jagged crown with teeth as well as silver and gold.

The man took a quill from the desk and scribbled on the back of the letter.

"Send this one to Ralof of Riverwood," the High King told the bird, folding and sealing the letter with his own sigil. He also started to write a second letter.

The raven cawed and gripped the letter in its beak, flying from the colds of Windhelm to the forests of Riverwood.

* * *

"Well?" the golden Khajiit asked. He was tall and strong, unlike many Khajiit he knew. He wore Nordic steel armor that he'd smithed himself and had many rings in his ears and long mane, both Khajiiti and Altmeri.

"The College is coming. Tam recognized the importance of what we're doing enough that he pulled his head out of his ass," the other Khajiit said, engrossed in the letters he'd received. He had mottled brown and grey fur, scarred and patchy from a lifetime of fighting, and wore grey leather painted with dull greens and browns. The only bright color he wore was a red cape with his personal sigil on it: a black inverted arrow on a white starburst. His mane was cropped, and he had no rings in his ears.

The second Khajiit continued. "The Dark Brotherhood, of course, has been silent, but I've never known Change-eye to refuse a challenge. Your pit fighter friends are on their way, of course." He growled. "And Stormcloak's refused."

The taller Khajiit put his hand on the older one. "It's all right, Loki. We'll get there sooner or later."

"I know, Marek, but how long is later?" Loki grumbled. When he thought of the plan, he'd been as eager as he always was, but, weeks later, his enthusiasm had dulled down. He felt Alduin restless and bloodthirsty, but he kept the World-Eater's spirit in check.

The platinum blonde Imperial to their left chimed in. "We did get a reply from Ri'saad, though. He wants to meet with you and Marek personally."

* * *

"Hail, son of the Dar'Jo," an old, grey-furred Khajiit greeted Loki. He spoke the native tongue of the Khajiit, perfect in a place like Skyrim where few knew it.

"Hail, Ri'saad," Loki replied smoothly. "You received my letter?"

"Of course. Please, sit down. Ma'dani, fetch us some tea, please," he asked a young Khajiit cub. The cub ran off.

Loki sat across from Ri'saad. Marek, who only spoke the basics of Ta'agra, followed Loki's example.

"He knows nothing of Ta'agra, save a few basic words," Loki told Ri'saad. "It makes my plans a bit complicated."

The older cat laughed. "So this one noticed."

Marek remained quiet. Loki told him that they would speak in the Khajiit tongue, but he still had to come along. He fidgeted, though, as he always did when others spoke of him.

"Now, to business," Loki said, all mirth gone from his voice. "Solrabi is a Cathay, born during the theft. Marek, for all that he is a halfling and a bastard, is the true Mane." He was grateful that Marek did not speak Ta'agra.

"A halfling you say? Very rarely do halflings occur. Especially not when their mother was not a Khajiit," Ri'saad mused. Ma'dani returned with tea, and Ri'saad accepted it, pouring some for the three cats sitting there. The cub scurried off.

Loki gave Ri'saad a pointed glance. "_Va ba_. I do not know the motivations of his birth, but he was born nonetheless." He took a cup of tea from Ri'saad and drank.

"Why, though, have you come to this old one for help?"

"I inherited my command of the Dar'Jo. You earned yours. I need a general, a Khajiit general."

"Fah, this one vowed never to return to Elsweyr," Ri'saad snapped. "And this one vowed never to let a false Mane sit on the throne."

Loki knew he was playing his cards right, if he got that response. "And yet Solrabi still sits on the throne, while my bastard sits beside me."

Ri'saad stared, his eyes flicking from the silent warrior to the master thief. "He looks nothing like you."

"He inherited his mother's looks and his father's fur," Loki deadpanned. It was true. Marek's fur was the same color as an Altmer's skin, and his eyes the same gold of theirs, but the only thing he shared with his Khajiit heritage was the fur. "If you do not help us, the golden-skinned bastards will win. They will stop at nothing to come after the Mane and convert him to their side."

"This one never knew, when this one took him into the caravan," Ri'saad murmured.

"I did not know either. I did not even know the Altmer could get pregnant. And yet, I am a father. He does not entirely know, although I think he may suspect. Please, Commander Ri'saad Kiaspoor."

Ri'saad sat in silence for a moment, thinking. Marek looked to Loki questioningly, but Loki shook his head.

"Very well, Commander Lok'nir Sol'dar Raihan. This one accepts your offer. When do we leave for Elsweyr?"


	17. Two Cats Start a War II

**Two Cats Start a War II**

The grass seas of Cyrodiil stretched for miles, uninterrupted. Some scars of the Oblivion crisis still remained, but much of the land had been retaken.

Loki stood in his stirrups, scouting the way ahead. Seeing nothing, he turned back and guided his horse, Sianach, to the caravan. The empty road ahead made him uneasy.

The caravan, as everyone called it, was made of many different factions of Skyrim. The mages had their own cart, enchanted to protect them from all weather. Tamris had brought along many who Loki had considered friends at the College, including J'zargo.

The pit fighters, Marek's friends, had their own cart, covered in arrows and sword marks. The cart also contained many spare weapons and supplies for forging and upgrading everyone's armor.

The Dark Brotherhood only brought themselves and some stolen horses, for they were few in number. The three who came, though, were the best the Brotherhood had to offer. Babette the child vampire, Nazir the Redguard, and Change-eye, the Skyrim-born Argonian who claimed a hundred known assassinations, including the previous Emperor and his cousin. For some odd reason, his eyes had a habit of shifting their color.

Loki's own Thieves' Guild was the second largest group there, and one of the most well equipped. They were spread throughout the caravan, acting as Loki's voice.

And, the last group, brought along a variety of carts and horses. The caravan Khajiit of Skyrim were fairly numerous, and almost all of them came along. The largest group in the caravan, many of the older ones were exiles, remnants of the failed Dar'Jo Rebellion. The younger ones had, like Marek, never set foot in Elsweyr.

Loki nodded to several Khajiit he recognized, and then he hollered to his Guild. "Vex, Delvin, take point!" The two best fighters in the Guild would be good scouts and would keep each other focused. Plus they held their own well in an ambush.

He walked Sianach over to the largest caravan, the one with red flags hanging from it. These flags had Loki's symbol over them, the white starburst and black arrow on the red flag of the Dar'Jo.

He jumped off his horse and through the cloth opening at the back of the cart. Inside, his war council sat, discussing their plans amid Ri'saad's massive amounts of wares.

His eyes scanned the war cart. From the mages, Tamris was there of course, lounging as if he owned the place. They shared a glare before Loki moved on. From the pit fighters, Gerich the perpetually drunk Imperial yawned, taking a swig from ale he'd bought at five times Ri'saad's usual price.

From the Dark Brotherhood, Change-eye stood still and silent at the back. Loki would not have noticed him if it weren't for the smell of swamp coming from the corner. Their eyes met, and the Argonian grinned, his eyes switching from gold to green.

Loki shuddered. He quickly looked away and met eyes with his own Second, the red-haired Brynjolf. They gave each other a nod, not needed to vocalize a greeting after years of working together.

Ri'saad sat on the floor of the cart, carefully drinking tea while looking at the battle plans. He was guiding Marek through them, and neither particularly noticed Loki's arrival. Ri'saad, for the first time in twenty-three years, was truly in his element. He was a master battle strategist, and he was clearly trying to teach the cub he once raised.

Loki sighed and looked at Marek for a moment. Loki saw elements of his own mother and father inside Marek. The thoughtful eyes of the boy's Dagi grandmother mixed with the bulk of his Cathay grandfather, all in the coloration of his Altmeri mother. Loki could not see any signs of himself in the boy, which was a lucky thing.

Loki still had no idea how to tell Marek about all that.

He sat next to Ri'saad and Marek on the floor. "We should be at the border just after dark," he said.

Ri'saad nodded. "There are always bandits at the border, Loki. We should prepare for them."

Loki pointed to the map to the path they were taking. "Going this way, there's only one bandit camp at most. They are right on the edge of Raihan territory. No one wants to upset them, even with Dax'ar as the Lord."

Marek gulped at the mention of his supposed family. He had no idea how he was going to talk to them and convince them to accept him as kin.

Ri'saad gave Loki a pointed glance. Loki rolled his eyes, as if to say I'll deal with it.

Turning back to the map, Loki said, "It'll be an easy stealth operation. Two people at most can handle any bandit group. Change-eye, your aim still good?"

The Argonian hissed slightly. "Don't bother insulting my skills, Land-Strider, or I will insult yours."

"That's what I thought."

* * *

Years ago, Loki infiltrated the Dark Brotherhood to steal their Barenziah stone. He spent several months watching, but he arrived at the same time as the man destined to lead the group.

Change-eye and Loki's skills complemented each other. Change-eye was talented with a bow and poison, while Loki was a cat of all trades, a specialized thief. The two were often assigned assassinations together. Everyone was amused at the two beasts being stuck on a team.

When Loki stole the stone during the Penitus Oculatus' attack, Change-eye merely nodded. As the old Sanctuary was engulfed in flames, Loki protected Change-eye with his powerful wards.

As the next day dawned and the fire died, the two members of the beast races walked out of the Sanctuary. Change-eye knew that Loki would leave that day, and he let the cat take the Barenziah stone.

The two, as a result, had a peculiar understanding and very good teamwork.

Twelve years later, Loki was grinning as he snuck up on the hapless bandits. His bow was notched, and he knew Change-eye's was the same. The rest of the caravan was farther back.

"_Zul Mey Gut_," Loki whispered, and he heard his voice shout Ta'agra insults at the Khajiit bandits. He blinked, filing away the knowledge for later. The Throw Voice shout had only used Nordic insults before.

Right after, two arrows fired into the camp, shortly followed by two more. Loki and Change-eye took out the four bandits. The only one remaining was the leader.

Loki swung his bow into its place as he ran into the camp. Change-eye jumped from rock to roof, following him.

Loki drew his blue sword, and Tafiirzinyah roared in ghostly flames. The Khajiit bandit leader, for all his strong steel plate armor, screamed like a little girl and ran. Change-eye's arrow caught him between the helmet and the top of the back plate. If the arrow hadn't killed him, the jarrin root poison Change-eye specialized in surely would.

Loki began looting the body before it was even cold.

Change-eye jumped down from the roof of the makeshift building. "You haven't changed much."

Loki smirked as he emptied the dead Khajiit's money pouch into his own. "Who knows when we'll need any of this. Help me get his armor off him. Someone probably needs a good set."

The assassin and the thief quickly removed the steel plate armor off the cat, and they walked back to the rest of the caravan, Loki carrying the heavier parts of the armor.

"Path's clear," he told the men on point. He gave the armor off to a member of Ri'saad's family caravan and walked into the war cart, followed by Change-eye.

"We're only an hour away from the Raihan main compound. Marek, how's your Ta'agra now? It's been a few weeks since I asked."

The young cat grunted. "Better. Not very good, though."

"Fair enough. It will get better. For now, stick to Tamrielic. The Raihan family is well connected with outside nobility, so everyone in it speaks Tamrielic."

Marek's tail merely twitched. Loki softened his expression and put a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder. "I'll be behind you the entire time. You can do it."

As his face hardened up into that of a warrior, he said to everyone else, "I don't know how friendly the Raihan family will be to us, so I want us to prepare for everything. Change-eye, Brynjolf, I want you two to flank us and be prepared to disappear and attack from the shadows. Ri'saad, you know Khajiit formalities better than I, so I want you up front with me and Marek. Everyone else, guard the caravan and be ready to run. Vex and Delvin will stay behind. If we die, they're to take everyone and run back to Skyrim."

Loki felt a rumbling laugh inside himself. _Cute, Ziitafiir. But don't worry, you will not fail. A dovah like me does not fail because of tiny Kaaze._

Loki grinned. Sometimes, being the jailor of Alduin's soul was useful.

* * *

The entrance hall was just as grand as Loki remembered. All the red and gold trappings of power graced the walls. Carved Khajiits, the previous Lords Raihan, ran the length of the hall, all in positions that reflected who they were.

Shiasir Raihan, the Cathay-raht founder of the house, stood with his twin battle-axes. Loki remembered that those two battle-axes rested crossed above the Lord Raihan's seat.

Elahana Raihan, the only female Lord, stood proudly, her wild grin permanently etched on her Suthay-raht features. She was a renowned general who single-handedly won a great war between the Khajiit and the Bosmer.

Omaar Raihan, the lucky Cathay who married the Mane of his time, was shown sitting with his lucky dice in his hand. Loki's father had those dice when he was alive. They were just slightly weighted so that they would roll good rolls often, but not too suspiciously. Omaar had been graced by Rahjin himself.

The last statue that was supposed to be there was missing, a black scorch mark on a pedestal. The name itself was burnt out, and "Traitor" was inscribed over it.

Loki growled, and the fur on his neck rose in anger. He shook his head as they approached the door to the lord's hallway, schooling his features into a neutral semblance.

To Tamris, he asked, "Quick check of the magic in here."

The Breton mage frowned, but he performed the Vision of the Tenth Eye spell. "Just some household wards. Some odd magic, but it's not threatening."

Loki nodded. Dax'ar hadn't totally ruined the ancestral home or its magic.

The mute house servant who led the group opened the doors.

Lord Dax'ar Ra'dro Raihan was everything his older brother was not. Where Loki's father had been a clever thief, Dax'ar was a lazy merchant. Where Loki's father had been a proud Cathay warrior, Dax'ar was a groveling, pathetic Ohmes, suited only to worship the ground the false Mane stood on.

In short, Loki despised his blood-uncle.

Thankfully, it had been twenty-five years since he was last in Elsweyr, thirty since he last stood in these halls, and he still looked nothing like his father. No one in the household recognized him.

Ri'saad bowed to the lord, and the other four in their group followed suit, bowing only as low as Ri'saad had. They straightened themselves up and waited for several minutes for Dax'ar to speak.

The lord finally deigned to talk to them. "This one is rather wondering why you chose to invade this one's house at this hour, requesting an audience." He spoke in Tamrielic, apparently because there were two non-Khajiits in their group.

Loki bristled, but he said nothing.

Ri'saad spoke instead. "Great Lord Raihan, forgive us for the hour, but these ones have urgent business."

Dax'ar waved him off. "Yes, yes, this one figured that much out. Get to the interesting part."

Ri'saad blinked. He tried to bring up the subject delicately. "Great Lord, how much do you know of Mane Solrabi?"

Dax'ar sneered. "Enough that this one will not listen to any more drivel of yours. This one has had three groups come here in the past two moons, claiming that the Mane is not a true Mane. Unless you have proof that there is a true Mane, this one will not care about your opinion. Now please leave."

Brynjolf gently shoved Marek to the front of the group. The golden Khajiit hesitated a moment before he put on his pit-fighting face. "I am the true Mane." He sounded Nordic to Loki's ear. Even Dax'ar would hear it.

Dax'ar blinked, and then the lord howled with laughter. "You are amusing, boy, but you are nothing but a Cathay," he said as his laughter died down. "You do put on a good show. Perhaps I should hire you as a bodyguard."

"He was born during an eclipse, when Jone hid Jode and Jode hid Jone," Loki added, barely holding back the anger from his voice. His own accent was smooth and uninflected. He could be from anywhere.

"Please. If he were the Mane, he would not be traveling with a Nord who disgraces the noble Khajiit art and an Argonian who smells of swamp and death."

"The Nord is the second in command of the Riften Thieves' Guild, the most profitable group of thieves in all of Tamriel. The Argonian is a master assassin who even I am afraid of," Loki snarled out, his _dovah_ anger refusing to be held back more. His accent turned into a _dovah_'s growl. "And you care less for the 'noble Khajiit art' than your brother cared for the Thalmor."

The Ohmes lord narrowed his eyes. "And who are you, insolent whelp?"

Loki chuckled, and then laughed. "What an interesting question to ask me.

"I've gone by many names over the years. Dar'Renrij was the one I used to get by for a very long time. Stormtail is the one I earned as a general of a rebellion far from this land. _Dovahsos_ is a name given to me out of legend. _Ziitafiir_ is one I chose for myself. By right of plunder, I am the Guildmaster of the Riften Thieves' Guild. By right of luck, I am champion of Merrunz and Sheggorath. By right of honor, I am Thane of the Rift, Falkreath, and Whiterun holds. By right of conquest, I am the slayer of the World-Eater, the _Dovahkriid_ of Alduin himself."

He met the Ohmes' eyes, and Alduin gave Loki the knowledge of a Shout he knew. "_Mul Qah Diiv_," Loki murmured, the powerful Thu'um running through him, and the remnants of Alduin's soul formed a terrifying cloak of light and magic around the Suthay-raht.

"By right of battle, I am the vessel of the World-Eater's soul, the _Silaavdein_. By right of merit, I am a general of the Dar'Jo Rebellion. By right of blood, I am the rightful Lord Raihan. I am Lok'nir Sol'dar Raihan, son of Lord Lok'nir Ri'dar Raihan and Lady Anarkis Jo'khaj Baramnin.

"Mane Marek Do'renrij Raihan is my son."

The room was dead silent.

Dax'ar was paralyzed by fear. "You lie. You're a dead man."

Loki bared his teeth. He could feel the magic that was woven into the halls start its work. Once he had claimed his birthright, he was the lord. "No, Dax'ar No-Name. As the true Lord Raihan, I strip you of your name and your worth. For betraying my family and stealing my title, I sentence you to death. May Baan Dar grant you no escape, and may Sren'darr grant you no mercy."

The Ohmes panicked and started to run, but Change-eye was quick and shot an arrow through the Khajiit's heart.

Loki deliberately stepped on the body as he made his way to the lord's seat. He sat, taking the chair he was raised to sit on.

"Any objections?"


	18. Two Cats Start a War III

**Two Cats Start a War III**

"It's a three day ride to the Tenmar Forest, assuming everything goes well," Loki said, pulling Sianach's reins. Behind him, in a hastily made basket, sat his Alfiq cousin K'sirr. "As the new Lord Raihan, I have a bit more room to go out into the country, while every other Khajiit here would be treated as a foreigner. Change-eye and Tamris will go with me, and my cousin as well. Ri'saad, please keep an eye on Marek for me."

Ri'saad sighed. "You are his father. He just now gained a family. You are leaving him."

Loki's ears flattened in guilt. "When I return. But this is for Elsweyr."

He snapped at Sianach's reins, and the spirited horse took off at a gallop. Tamris the mage and Change-eye the assassin soon followed.

Ri'saad stood alone under the light of Jone and Jode. He watched the dust trail disappear into the sand sea and sighed. Returning to Elsweyr had made him uneasy.

The Dar'Jo Rebellion was happening all over again, and there was nothing Ri'saad could do to stop the inevitable bloodshed. This was no longer the simple rebellion of Lok'nir and Anarkis' time. This was a game of chess between Loki and the Thalmor.

Ri'saad had no idea who would win.

He hoped his guesses were wrong.

The wind whistled, and an arrow sprung from his heart. He looked down, closed his eyes, and he fell back, his body's heat dissipating in the desert night.

* * *

Five days later, Loki, Change-eye, and Tamris were lost in the Tenmar Forest.

"Are you sure this is the way to go, Land-Strider?" Change-eye asked cautiously.

Tamris just snorted. "No, we're lost."

Loki's ear twitched. "That's the point. If we are not lost, then we will never find what we're looking for."

"Why? Your... cousin could show us the way," Tamris said, impatient.

"Not if we want to appear as guests. They're here."

"Who-"

Four fireballs shot from the trees. Loki and Tamris blocked them with the best wards they knew.

"Don't fire anything back," Loki growled.

Four Dagi jumped down from the canopy. A Dagi-raht followed them down and landed right in front of the group.

Loki and Tamris dropped their wards.

The two groups stared for several moments, before the Dagi-raht broke out into a grin.

"Well, I guess my favorite godson's finally returned home!"

* * *

The Baramnin household was far less extravagant than its Raihan counterpart. For one, the Baramnin home was built out of the trees. For another, the Dagi and Alfiq lords of Baramnin were historically more isolated than most Khajiit lords.

They were also very welcoming of family and that family's guests.

Loki gave a slight bow to his uncle S'virr, the Lord Baramnin. K'sirr sat next to the Dagi-raht lord.

S'virr was not technically his uncle. Loki's mother was from a lower branch of the Baramnin family, but, with her significant magical gift, she was raised with the main family. S'virr, as Loki's godfather, had insisted that Loki call him uncle.

"So, why, after Baan Dar knows how long, have you come back to Elsweyr, Lok'nir?" the lord asked. S'virr was always smiling and happy.

Loki grinned. S'virr's mood was infectious. "Uncle, I usually go by Loki, now."

"You must have quite a story to tell. We must share it over dinner."

Loki blinked and cocked his head in question.

"You are on the Thalmor's most wanted list at the moment. You, and a boy who suspiciously looks like Anarkis' husband."

Loki sighed. "That boy is my son, and the true Mane of Elsweyr."

S'virr nodded sagely. "The Baramnin family has stayed out of all political matters since the failed Dar'Jo Rebellion. However, I know that Solrabi is only a Cathay. Secrets are hard to hide from the Baramnins."

"The spy network."

"Just a few... 'housecats.' You'd be surprised at how little others know of the Alfiq, even among Khajiit."

K'sirr grinned.

S'virr continued. "Hatred for the Thalmor is growing, and I don't think they'll want a halfling bastard with an Altmer parent on the throne, for all that the boy is the Mane."

Loki blinked. Change-eye, to his right, shifted uneasily. Tamris, however, had a shit-eating grin on his face.

"So that's what that damned Ancano meant!"

Loki growled at the archmage. "Do you mind?"

"Eh? So? He said something about the Thalmor moving elsewhere because of a halfling. He swore he would leave Skyrim."

S'virr raised his brow. "And what did you do?"

Tamris' grin turned bloodthirsty. "I made him leave Skyrim. He never saw the Aetherius." His magic started to leak, and his pupils dialated.

Loki casually edged away from the Breton. "Tam, you're going mad again."

Tamris blinked, and his normal stoic demeanor returned. "Apologies. My gift from Sheogorath."

S'virr merely looked amused. "We are all touched by the Skooma Cat. Those who aren't are the mad ones. Speaking of which..." He turned to his son and started yelling in Ta'agra. "_K'sirr! Tell everyone to prepare for a feast! My godson is back in Elsweyr!_"

"Oh Baan Dar save us," Loki murmured. To Change-eye and Tamris, he said, "Avoid the skooma if you can. You don't have a Khajiit's innate tolerance, and I don't want to see Tam the Mad out tonight."

* * *

The Khajiit party went better than expected, and Marek now had the support of two great houses. Loki fell onto the bed he was provided, thoroughly exhausted and ready to sleep. Tam and Change-eye weren't much better, and they both collapsed on the beds they were given.

S'virr cast one last regretful glance at his godson before he close the door to the room the group was sharing.

"Feeling guilty are we, S'virr?" a cold voice asked him. It was definitely not the voice of a Khajiit.

"You would be too, if you had just condemned your family to die, Cyrellion."

The Thalmor mage stepped our of the shadows. "Altmer do not form the same attachments that you beasts do."

S'virr growled softly but did not rise to the insult.

"And besides, none of them will die. They're far more useful alive."

Behind the Thalmor and the Great Lord stood a very small, very unnoticeable cat. His blue eyes flashed in anger, and he disappeared.

K'sirr was angry and betrayed, and he would not have that.

House Baramnin had not held their word. Understandable, given that it was a house of spies and mages.

But gods damn him, K'sirr was a cat of his word.

The new Mane would sit on the throne before he bowed to the Thalmor like the rest of his family.

* * *

It had been three weeks since Loki left for the Tenmar Forest.

Loki. He still called the other Khajiit that. He couldn't bring himself to call his friend his father. He never even wanted to know he had a father.

Marek sighed. He sat on the wall outside the Raihan family fortress, wondering how he got himself in all of this. He was a simple pit fighter. His friends called him a furry Nord. He was not a ruler, not a general, not a Khajiit. He couldn't even read.

Ri'saad was dead, and he didn't know who else to talk to about this. The Thieves' Guild and the mages were growing restless. The two remaining Dark Brothers had disappeared. Even his oldest friends, the Windhelm Paladins, weren't much better. After the first three days, no one in the nearby city was willing to fight them for money, so they all got drunk off whatever they could, or they fought among themselves. But they wouldn't fight their old friend Punchcat anymore.

Marek felt very, very lonely and very, very useless.

Overhead, a falcon screeched, and it dropped a letter into his lap.

Marek stared at the rolled up paper. It was sealed with golden wax, a Thalmor symbol inscribed in it.

Marek stood and walked over to the quarter of the house where the Thieves' Guild stayed. No one wanted to be near them.

"Hey, Delvin, can you help me out a sec?" he asked the middle-aged Breton.

"Sure, kid," the old Breton said. "Wha's in it for me?"

"Help me read the letter and we'll find out."

Delvin cracked a grin, and he grabbed the scroll out of Marek's hands. He opened it up, leaving the wax intact.

As he read, the grin faded, replaced by a frown, and then a scowl.

"They've got 'im. They want you in exchange."

Marek didn't need to know who 'they' or 'him' were. Nor did he think about a plan.

"Where do we go?"


End file.
